


flyboy_fanfic

by Biblio (Heyerchick)



Category: Stargate SG-1, The Sentinel
Genre: Established Relationship, Humour, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 04:16:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13068936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heyerchick/pseuds/Biblio
Summary: Slash: 	Jack and Daniel involved in a loving and committed relationship, which usually involves sex.Rating: 	NC-17Category: 	Established Relationship.  Humour.  Romance.Season/Spoilers: 	Seasons 3 and 4.  Events to Small Victories.Synopsis: 	Jack does it better than Jim.Warnings: 	None.





	1. Part One

“Jack, I swear to God, if you don’t leave that thing ALONE I’m going to come down there and beat you to death with it,” Daniel snarled.

“Lighten the hell up, darl-ING,” Jack called lightly.  “I’m not doing a damn thing except sitting here and melting.”

“Don’t call me ‘darling’.  You KNOW I hate it!” Daniel yelled.  “How the hell can you be melting with all that beer and ice cream you’ve been scarfing down while you’re PLASTERED to the one and only fan we have?”  Daniel tossed his pen down and impatiently swiped the beads of sweat from his brow.  He had WORKING air conditioning at his place, along with heat AND humidity control, so what the hell were they doing at Jack’s house in a heatwave?  Only Jack knew.  Daniel shook his dripping hand, stretched up and peered down into the living room, where Jack was destruct testing the TV remote and Daniel’s patience.  Daniel glanced behind him to the hallway.  He sighed.  What he had in mind – it was a mistake.  Huge.  But there was no way around it, he had to do it.  He had no choice, the heat was killing him, but still  - it was a mistake. He cautiously eased up and snuck out of the dining area without making a sound.

“Can I help it all the smart boys are fly boys?  Grab another beer for me while you’re up, willya?” Jack hollered without looking around.

Daniel ignored that command and made for the bedroom.  He was asking for trouble, he knew he was, but he was going to expire from the humidity if he didn’t get out of some of these clothes.  Egypt and Abydos were dry heat.  This oppressive, damp heaviness was like a live thing, knocking him wheezing on his ass and of course Jack pointedly had sole custody of their only fan.  Jack was half-naked, sprawled comfortably all over his couch, right in front of said fan, deliciously cool…and waiting.  Waiting for Daniel to melt in every sense of the word, go to Jack and sprawl with him.  Preferably on Jack's lap.  Jack’s blatant, gloating possession of the fan was entirely tactical.  A lure.  Bait for a very specific trap.  Jack was also hot, in the ‘horny as hell’ sense of the word, and royally pissed off about not getting any.

Daniel yanked open the bottom bureau drawer and fished around for the denim cut-offs he knew were in there somewhere.  Every single thing he was wearing was chafing.  Every single thing.  He stripped speedily and silently, his only defence against ambush.  He was naked and adjacent to Jack’s bed, which was pretty much how and where Jack wanted him to be, 24/7.  Daniel smiled suddenly, stroking gentle fingers over the comforter.  He wasn’t putting up much of a fight, to be honest.

Hustling into Jack’s cut-offs, which were bleached to a soft grey, blessedly cool and comfortable even if they were dangerously abbreviated, given Jack’s currently libidinous state, Daniel had to fight to keep a big sloppy grin from his face.  He was constantly amazed by how gentle Jack was with him, how Jack's instinctive warmth and tenderness could focus all the passion Jack felt for him into the most shattering love-making Daniel had ever experienced.

Daniel swallowed convulsively as sweet, remembered pleasure coiled through him, a deep, heavy pang that quickened his breathing and made the sweat stand on his flushing skin.  All that pleasure from mere touch.  Skin on skin, Jack’s boundless patience and stamina, making love as though they had all the time in the world, coaxing Daniel free of every inhibition he thought he had.  They’d been together five months now, though three of those they’d been forced to spend apart, and the only inhibition Daniel hadn’t shed, the only loving he hadn’t shared with Jack was intercourse.  Soon, though.  He knew what it was to be inside Jack, was shaken to the core each time by Jack’s willingness to be so open to him, to be so vulnerable.  Daniel’s lips twitched as he turned.  Jack was so passionate.  So pushy.  So LOUD.  And so – dammit! - so HERE.

Daniel gulped as he was clasped fervently to a lot of hot, hard, distractingly hairy and outrageously gloating Jack.

“Sweet Jesus,” Jack groaned, eyeing Daniel in disbelief.  He ran a shaking finger around the waistband of the cut-offs, slung low on Daniel’s hips, “and thank God for heat waves.  Let’s make love, Danny, please.  I’m DYING here,” he groaned, licking and nipping at Daniel’s sweat dewed throat.

“Well, die quietly,” Daniel snapped, breathing hard and quick as Jack tightened his grip imperatively and lifted Daniel off his feet to tumble him down on the bed.  Despite his wriggling, Jack had him pinned flat in a heartbeat.  In fact, Jack was grinning wolfishly BECAUSE of Daniel's wriggling, if the encouragingly filthy suggestions being whispered into Daniel's ear were anything to go by.  It was difficult to breathe, let alone think, and articulation was almost impossible as Jack insinuated himself between Daniel’s sprawled thighs and rocked suggestively.  He was iron hard, heavy, insistent heat straining against Daniel.

“Come on, you know you want to,” Jack growled, pinning Daniel’s wrists to the pillow, grinning like a fiend as Daniel’s hands turned in his, twining their fingers together, feeling Daniel shiver beneath him, the inviting hardness swelling against him.  “I love you.  Let’s MAKE – “

“Love.  Yes.  Mm hm.  Grasped that,” Daniel gasped as his hormones battled his report deadline for supremacy.

“Grasp THIS then,” Jack hissed, thrusting against Daniel.

“N-no,” Daniel protested faintly.  He wanted to, God, how he wanted to. “I can’t.  There isn’t time.  I HAVE to get this report done, Jack, you know that.  SG-5 goes off-world tomorrow.”

Jack bared his teeth.  “A quickie,” he coaxed, nibbling gently on Daniel’s ear, sidling his tongue around to that sweet spot just – Daniel quivered beneath him, gasping – THERE, he gloated.

“No,” Daniel refused with as much conviction as he could muster, given his body emphatically and indeed peremptorily disagreed.  “They’re NEVER quickies, Jack, you KNOW that.  We’ll be in bed all afternoon and I HAVE to get this done.  After the report is finished, I promise.”  He reached up and kissed the beloved, sullen face.  “I hate you too,” he said tenderly, “now let me up, I have work to do.”

“Leave it,” Jack ordered, scowling.  The scowl kinda segued into a grin as Daniel squirmed delightfully, trying to get free.  “Ni-ce,” Jack gloated, “Keep it up.”

“You don’t need any help keeping it up,” Daniel snapped tartly, “You’re doing just fine without me.  In fact, you’re positively rampant.”  He glared as Jack panted ludicrously, blatantly squirming in enthusiastic counterpoint to his own struggles.  “If you don’t get off me, right NOW, I’m marching in there tomorrow and telling the general I didn’t get the report completed as a result of taking the afternoon off to have sex with my pushy boyfriend.”

“A shit-load of HOT sex with your persuasive boyfriend,” Jack insisted.  “I can tell you without reservation that the general would completely buy that story.”

Daniel scowled up at him.  “You’ve been thoroughly out of hand since the first time I let you sweetheart me out of my clothes and apparently my senses.  To this day, I have no idea why I let you kiss the shit out of me.”

“I’ve told you a million times, it was the Blood of Sokar,” Jack smirked into huge, stormy eyes.  He lived to get Daniel hot and bothered. “I was confused.  I thought you were…“

“ME,” Daniel snapped.  “Confused my ass, which is exactly what you were after.  I’ve seen cobras strike slower than your hands grabbing my butt.  AND you knew I couldn’t so much as whimper a protest, what with being two feet away from the open chamber GENERAL Carter and MAJOR Carter were sharing and…”

“It was at least three feet and it was your own goddamn fault,” Jack interrupted hurriedly.  “You’re ridiculously tender-hearted.  You should have kicked me to shut me up, not snuggled up next to me and breathed on my neck.”

“I was trying to comfort you,” Daniel sniffed.  “You were having a nightmare.”

“I was feeling no pain at all, mostly because I was having a wet dream and when I opened my eyes you made it come true.”

“I was feeling pain.  I banged my head when you – you…“

“I was being chivalrous, shielding your body with my own.”

“Shielding me from what?” Daniel hooted incredulously.  “You rolled on top of me and kissed the shit out of me,” he corrected crisply.  “I was the only one who was confused.  I still don’t know why I didn’t just knee you in the balls, except you’d factored that in as well, and you knew I’d never be low enough to do that to you when you were wounded.  You’re such a prick, Jack O’Neill.  You knew you were in love with me for months before you bothered to let me in on it.”

Jack’s lips twitched ruefully.  The sulky pout was softening him, as always.  “I was embarrassed, what can I say?  I’d felt – weird – about you…“

“Weird?  That’s romantic,” Daniel drawled witheringly.

“Shut up,” Jack said equably.  “Weird, ever since I took my eye off your balls and that bitch Hathor had you shorn like a sheep.  My libido has been jumpy ever since your nape was exposed to the world.  Flaunting the big blue eyes and the bone structure at me didn’t help at all.”  Not at ALL.  Except to make his trigger finger itch whenever anyone showed an inappropriate interest in Daniel, which so far seemed to be everybody.  “I didn’t really know I was in love with you until that debacle with Linea.”

Daniel blushed.  He hadn’t slept with Ke’ra, no matter what the base thought.  She’d lost her memory and could have been married for all he knew.  She’d kissed him, and he’d wanted that so badly, needed that connection, needed to be wanted again, so much.  He’d almost – well, it had been too close.  Knowing it was wrong had been barely enough to stop him, to make him back away when they both wanted it desperately.  The attraction was explicable for so many reasons, and loneliness was only part of it.  He’d looked at Ke’ra and finally realised he was seeing Sarah, another loss, not the bone deep ache of losing Sha’uri, but still a loss.

Ke’ra was reaction to so many old hurts, and she was someone he could help.  Had helped, despite Jack rampaging round the base with a loaded gun.  He knew now that Jack had been jealous, but at the time, he’d only seen Jack venting his rage at being the one to set Linea free, wanting to erase his own mistake with a bullet.  They’d all been fooled by Linea, but Daniel had faith in Ke’ra.  She had the chance she deserved to put her knowledge to good use, to live clean and free of her past, and though Daniel was still weighed down by his own past, it was due to Ke’ra he now had Jack.  The extremity of Jack’s jealous, protective rage had finally shocked Jack into thinking straight, and led directly to that outrageous ambush when they’d limped back to Vorash to get medical attention for Jacob after his ordeal on Netu.

Daniel still had no idea how Jack had known Daniel was in love with him before Daniel had, but somehow, Jack had known.  Just as he’d known on the journey back from Netu that Daniel had reached his lowest ebb, and had ruthlessly taken advantage of Daniel’s evident confusion, though Jack hadn’t learned until much later that Daniel was confused because Apophis had used his best friend against him.  Much, much later.

Making love with Jack that first time, in fact making love with Jack every time, stunned him with the intensity of the passion he could be made to feel, the uninhibited responses he was encouraged to share.  Daniel remembered with crystal clarity making love with Jack amidst the comforting familiarity of the dunes.  He remembered Jack's fervent kisses, Jack's sure, certain touch, the deep, powerful glides against his aching erection.  He remembered pushing urgently against Jack, clinging desperately to Jack's shoulders, shuddering, sobbing into the hollow of Jack's throat as the hot, aching pleasure rippled through him endlessly.  He hadn't even known Jack could spell 'Tantric'.

Jolted back to the here and now, literally, Daniel scowled.  Jack was doing a LOT of encouraging, right now.  In fact, the ecstatic rocking and rubbing was bordering on a one-colonel cheerleading section.  Jack was eyeing Daniel’s lips hungrily.  When Jack was this libidinous, it was time to play dirty.  Daniel made with the melting, soulful eyes.  “Please, Jack, let me up, let me finish,” he pleaded, batting his lashes gently.  Jack looked a little glazed.  He was SUCH a pushover. “SG-5 need this information.  You wouldn’t be putting the moves on me if the report was intended for SG-1, you know you wouldn’t.  Admit it.”

“Ruthless little bastard,” Jack bitched, refusing to admit any such thing.  He sighed heavily, easing his grip enough to let Daniel push and prod and finally shove hard enough to get out from under him.  Jack didn’t feel obligated to help in any way.  He had a boner with Daniel’s name on it and he was going to share this pain freely with the cause.  He didn't know why the hell Daniel allowed himself to be guilt-tripped into bringing work home the moment Jack's back was turned.  He stalked out of the bedroom and followed Daniel back around to the kitchen, pouncing on another cold beer as Daniel settled down at the dining table again with his laptop and his books.  Always the books.

Jack took a long draught of the beer and slunk back over to the couch and the remote.  He was tantalised by all the naked skin being flaunted at him, totally off-limits until duty was very definitely done.  He couldn’t fault Daniel for following orders.  We-ell, to be accurate, he couldn’t admit out loud he WAS faulting Daniel for following orders when they could have been rolling around getting sweaty, so he was just going to have to settle for amusing himself until Daniel was finished.  Then he was going to make Daniel suffer.  Jack sighed heavily and rested his beer on his boner.  An ice pack was obvious enough to be fun, paraded pointedly past his hard-hearted love, but Jack wasn’t into masochism and at least he could drink the damn beer after it took the edge off.  He sighed heavily and channel surfed.

“JACK!”

Yeah, yeah.  Jack surfed a few more channels on general principles and then found what looked like a cop show.  The big guy was definitely your typical studly hard-ass cop  The little guy appeared to be a spaniel from this angle.  That was Big Hair, all right.  Aww.  Bless.  The little guy had curls AND big blue eyes.  The kid was about twelve and the hard-ass towered over him as they dove for cover.  The frigging rocket the bad guys were using was definitely over-kill.  Jack mused over the logistics of hijacking.  A little C4, a little CS gas, open truck, minimal noise, no casualties.  Nice and easy.  He sneered at the screen.  Strictly amateur hour, here, even if the fuckers did have MP5s, Jack’s own weapon of choice.

Jack guzzled some more beer and lay down to lazily watch the proceedings.  He noticed almost immediately there was sparkage between the cop and the little guy.  More than a spark as the big guy hovered protectively and hustled the kid home, out of danger.  Maybe the kid was one of these sensitive types, nerves couldn’t take it.  The studly hard-ass wouldn’t even let the kid drive.  Jack eyed the big guy thoughtfully.  Nah.  Stud just wanted an excuse to tuck him up all snug in bed.  That was one raging case of denial, right there.  Jack guzzled a little more, watched a little more.  Chuckled.  Whoa, boy, was it ever denial.  The two of ‘em were all over each other, even with the denial chicks fawning and fighting over them.

“These guys are SO doing it,” Jack called casually when the break started.

“Which guys are doing what?” Daniel called back, totally at sea.  He’d tuned Jack out completely.

“What we should be doing right now,” Jack said pointedly.  “This is a hoot.  Talk about repressed.  The big, macho cop has his hands all over the little guy every chance he gets.”  He heard a definite snort from behind the laptop and jumped up, grinning.  “THAT was entirely different.  I wasn’t trying to get in your pants.”  He loped around to stand behind Daniel, cupped his hand roughly around the back of a tense neck.  “Not at first, anyway,” he admitted, dropping both hands to give Daniel a little neck rub, ease some of the tension away.  “How’s it going?” he asked softly as Daniel sighed and leaned into his kneading hands.

“I’m getting there.  Slowly.  Can’t afford a mistake here, Jack, this is a rigidly structured society, with strict adherence to protocol.  The Tucau are cutting the upstart Tau'ri ‘aliens’ all the slack they’re willing to, and the best I can hope is that our responses aren’t seen as out and out insults.  Even acknowledging someone of a lower caste than our team has been granted would be a mistake, and all I can do is extrapolate from various Earth cultures so we can avoid the most glaring errors.” Daniel pulled off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.  He had a sickening headache, which was growing more intense by the second.  Humidity killed his sinuses.  “That feels good,” he acknowledged as Jack’s gentle, knowing fingers worked their magic.  “And that feels better,” he sighed as Jack planted a light kiss in his hair.

Jack headed off to the medicine cabinet and the aspirin without a word, slipping into the kitchen to pour Daniel an icy cold ginger ale and heaping a bowl full of ice cream for him.  He hesitated.  Aah, what the hell.  Danny liked something to hold onto when he got excited.  Jack scooped himself a slightly bigger heap and strode out to resuscitate his wilting archaeologist.  “Time out, Danny,” he ordered briskly.  “Take a load off.  That’s an order,” he used the magic words when Daniel grimaced at him.

“You can’t order me to eat ice cream,” Daniel protested, a grin getting away from him.

“I just did.  Now get your ass down here before I have to enjoy myself thoroughly coming back up there and fetching it,” Jack called over his shoulder as he headed for the couch.

“You drive me up the wall when you’re masterful,” Daniel mock-gushed, hitting the save key gratefully.

Jack wisely said nothing as Daniel slipped onto the couch and curled up next to him, sighing softly and snuggling in, which was just fine by Jack.  Daniel swallowed the aspirin without complaint, which meant he had the headache that made him throw up, and took long, greedy gulps of his icy ginger ale, which meant he was dehydrated.  Jack felt guilty about hogging the fan.  He knew perfectly well Daniel coped with the desert heat better than the rest of the team put together, but intense humidity gave him this headache, the one where he threw up.  Not that he ever complained about it, no, not Danny.  He would just go grey at the first convenient moment, and disappear behind the selected tree or rock the instant Jack or Carter had checked it out.  Carter had mastered the difficult art of keeping both eyes on the treeline and one soothing hand on Daniel.  Not her gun hand, obviously.  Daniel would have died at the stake before he’d let Jack or Teal’c do the soothing pat thing, but Carter was sneaky, somehow convincing Daniel it was for her sake, not his.  That was of course entirely different.

Jack nudged over bowl and spoon invitingly.  “Dig in,” he encouraged, ploughing into his own goodies.  He watched out the corner of his eye, fascinated, as Daniel carefully scooped up a little of each flavour in turn and then ate them all together, tongue slipping slowly over the spoon, revelling sensually in the explosion of tastes.  Jack hid a smile and settled down to watch his show again.  The other one.  The one on television.

“What the hell is a student doing partnering a cop anyway?” Jack asked eventually, after he’d made a serious dent in the ice cream.  Big enough that Daniel had surreptitiously moved his own bowl to safety.  Lucky Jack didn’t take this stuff personally.

“He’s an anthropology student.  The cop is his doctoral research subject.”

“The cop is only interested in researching one thing, and it ain’t the doctorate.”

“I think they like each other.  A lot,” Daniel admitted after observing the onscreen action for a while.  “The big guy and – um – “

“Jim is the stud, Blair is the cuddly one,” Jack supplied helpfully.   He snorted.  “You betcha he likes him, only he’s not owning up to it.  If this guy was any more repressed he’d be up on the roof of the cop building with one of those MP5’s they just confiscated. The guys who made the show must have been tearing their hair out.”

Daniel nodded reluctantly.  The two main characters WERE a little too 'in touch' with their feelings – and each other - for any network executive’s peace of mind.  They - um - felt a lot.  He glanced at the screen.  Felt a lot literally AND figuratively.  A moment later he snapped bolt upright on the couch, bridling as Jack burst out laughing.  “He panicked?” Daniel snarled, outraged.  “Blair tripped and fell flat on his face in front of natives menacing him with SPEARS?”

“I guess the big, blue-eyed charm doesn’t work on every indigenous type in a grass skirt, huh?” Jack grinned.  “And cut the kid some slack.  He just told the denial chick he was uncoordinated.”

“It’s embarrassing.  It’s such a damn cliché,” Daniel snarled.  “He’s an academic so that automatically makes him some helpless wuss unable to function when he’s put into an alien environment?  That is such crap!  The process of getting a research grant is cut-throat, Jack, you’ve no idea.  Some kid who’d fall flat on his face the first time someone waved a spear at him wouldn’t stand any chance of getting a field project let alone a research grant in anthropology, because there are fifty more just like him who’d stand their ground.  Screw up once, just ONCE, you are O-U-T, out.  You’ve never seen me fall on my face when someone waved a spear at me, and I’m a linguist,” he snapped indignantly.  “I have to get back to my work.”  He scowled vengefully at the TV and stalked back to his laptop.  “They’ll screw anyone for ratings,” he grumbled.

“No, they won’t,” Jack corrected, reaching for the abandoned bowl just as Daniel trotted back down the stairs and snatched it from his grasp with a reproachful look.  “Jim wants to, he REALLY wants to, but they won’t let him.”

“That’s what fan fiction is for,” Daniel said cursorily.

“What?”

“Fan fiction,” Daniel called as he sat down and opened his report file again.  “People write stories that fix things they think are wrong for the show.  Bad characterisation, improbable plots, even the death of favourite characters.”

“You read this stuff?”

“No, but I know it’s on the web.  A lot of anthropologists and information scientists are studying the impact of the free exchange of information and ideas on the world wide web - the global community, you know?”  Daniel accepted the moment the words were out of his mouth that was probably a rhetorical question.  “I’ve read some articles recently, and fan fiction was one of the issues addressed.”

Jack unplugged the fan and carried it up into the dining area.  He fussed with it until he got the maximum cool air playing over Daniel’s glistening and tragically still off-limits skin, kissed him gently on his shivering nape, and left him to it.

As he watched the show, Jack was wondering about Jim who’d wanted to do it with Blair, and couldn’t because it was prime time.  He was wondering if anybody had fixed that.

 

* * *

“For God’s sake!” Jack howled.

Daniel jumped.  All had been calm for a few hours now.  He was almost finished his report, mostly because Jack had been totally engrossed in whatever it was he was looking at on his laptop.  For engrossed, read QUIET.  He’d hooked up the modem, so Daniel presumed Jack was looking at something on the web.

“Sexy_colonel is taken,” Jack snapped in answer to a mildly enquiring look from Daniel.  “And leather_boy.  AND hockey_stud.”

“Excuse me?” Daniel bleated, totally taken aback by the stream of salacious non-sequiturs.

“I need a pseudonym, Daniel, try to keep up,” Jack said impatiently.  “I can’t have my feedback coming to my officially assigned USAF email address, can I?”

“Sexy ‘colonel’?” Daniel challenged.  “And more importantly, ‘feedback’?” he asked cautiously.

“Colonel is neutral.  Anybody could be a sexy colonel,” Jack insisted.

“Including an Air Force colonel,” Daniel commented crisply.  “Don’t give me any crap about reverse psychology, either,” he added hurriedly.  Jack’s mouth closed with a definite snap.  “Let it go,” he ordered his mutinous – and if he was being completely honest here – sexy colonel.

“You didn’t say I was sexy,” Jack muttered, trying out the hurt puppy eyes to no noticeable effect.

“I certainly didn’t,” Daniel said meanly, accepting his report conclusion and final read through were going to have to wait a little longer.  Things were looking much more interesting on Planet Jack.  “What the hell do you need a pseudonym for, Jack?  Feedback?  Feedback for what?”

“My story,” Jack beamed.  “You were right about this fan fiction stuff.  Found a shit load of it.”

“About ‘The Sentinel’?”

“About Jim and Blair, and it isn’t fan fic.  Well, it is, but it’s a sub-genre,” he added cunningly.  He knew Daniel well enough to judge the effect a carefully placed mention of technical stuff like transitive verbs or absolute dating could have on his susceptible lover.  “Slash fic.  I knew if I spotted those two wanted to do it, I wouldn’t be the only one.”

Daniel saved his report, put the laptop on standby, slid it to one side.  He leaned forward, fascinated, propped his chin on his hands and stared at Jack.  “And just how did you find this ‘slash fic’?”

“I did a search.  Not one of those fancy pants Boolean string beans you use, but completely effective nonetheless,” Jack said smugly.

“Which keywords did you use?”

“’Jim’, ‘Blair’ and 'fucking’,” Jack said crisply.

Daniel blinked hard.  “Ah.  The…direct approach.  Crude, but effective,” he admitted.

“Gotta love that document level indexing on Google.  I got four thousand three hundred and seventy hits.”  Jack grinned.  That was a lot of fucking.

“And just how, exactly, does this lead us to sexy_colonel and feedback?” Daniel queried gently.

“Because I’ve read some of those stories and I can do better.  Seriously, Danny, if I gotta read one more story about the kid having to take it up the ass ‘cause he’s the Guide and the Blessed Fucking Protector gets to stick it to him whenever he feels like it, but it’s okay, it's DESTINY, my head will explode.  It's just the little guy's bad luck he's a guy?  And what the hell, let's fix it by making the kid a wuss in crying need of protection and a good hard fuck to keep him 'safe'.  Keep him in line, more like, 'cause God forbid Big Bad Jim should make an effort, woo him or something.  Sheesh."

“Oh,” Daniel said weakly.  He was somewhat at a loss.  This was surreal even for Jack.  “You’re going to fix the fix-it fan fiction?” he clarified.  He caught the tender, somewhat speculative warmth in Jack's eyes and blushed.  Wooing was one of Jack's specialities.  Jack never assumed he'd be getting any, for all the teasing, and their dates were followed by seriously creative seductions.  Jack loved it when Daniel played hard to get, and Daniel loved Jack going postal when Daniel played TOO hard to get.

“Yeah, sure.  I’ve skimmed.  Big Jim was military, Special Forces.  Me too.  He’s hot for an archaeologist with beautiful big blue eyes.  Me too.”

"Blair is an anthropologist,” Daniel snapped, ignoring the 'eyes’ stuff.  Jack got sappy from time to time, and all Daniel could do was ride it out until Jack came to his senses and started biting his head off instead of stroking it.  Daniel tried to avoid pillow talk, even when they were both naked and feeling pretty sappy.  The occasional 'sapphire' or 'cerulean' reference was liveable, but Daniel wasn't about to reciprocate because Jack would want to be 'velvety' the whole damn time.

"Huh?" Jack muttered vaguely, eyes on his screen.

'He's an anthropologist, not an archaeologist,” Daniel insisted.

"Ah, they both dig up dead guys, what's the difference?" Jack brushed it off impatiently.

“Anthropologist is easier to spell,” Daniel said dryly.  “And you mean palaeontologist.”

“You both study cultures, though.  You got the damn PhD on your records.”

“You were Black Ops,” Daniel said lightly. It was a little blatant to point out that there were three branches of military service, and Jack would be as happy to be called 'sailor' as Daniel was to be called 'anthropologist'.  He was a Doctor of Archaeology.  Jack was an Air Force colonel.  After a moment's careful reflection, Daniel decided never to mention the word 'sailor' in Jack's presence.  It would only encourage him.  Daniel could actually picture several scenarios where Jack wouldn't mind being referred to as a sailor at all, most of them involving an inflatable submarine and various ways of getting Daniel wet and wild.  Anchors aweigh, indeed.  Daniel glanced at Jack, thought about boarding parties, and shuddered.

“I fucking wasn’t Black Ops,” Jack snarled, “I’ve never sunk THAT low – oh, very funny, I get the damn point.”

“I’ve spent half my life studying the written word, Jack.  I’m an archaeologist, and my area of expertise is the languages and literature of ancient cultures.  Archaeology is a specialised field of study within anthropology, certainly, just as linguistics is a specialised field of study within archaeology.  It was studying the development of early writing systems that led to my research on the cross-pollinisation of ancient cultures.”

“Linguist is easier to spell, too,” Jack said lightly.  He stared at Daniel for a moment.  “Special Ops is sanctioned, Daniel,” he said seriously.  “It’s not the same as Black Ops.  I’ve never been a paid assassin.”  Or a kidnapper, or a torturer, or…

“You don’t need to tell me that,” Daniel said softly.  “And I don’t want this to be construed in any way as encouragement, but how about Fly Boy?”

“Damn, I like that,” Jack pounced on his keyboard and typed furiously, hitting the submit key with a flourish.  “Godammit!” he glared accusingly at the infuriating red field on his screen.

“Taken?”

“Sixty-nine of them, apparently,” Jack complained gloomily.  “I know!”  Jack added ‘fanfic’ and beamed when it sailed through.  “There ya go, flyboy_fanfic at your service,” Jack gloated.  “And at yahoo.com.”

Daniel strolled around the table to take a look at Jack’s new identity.  Then he took another look.  “Um, Jack, I can’t help but notice this profile has ‘female’ checked in the gender box.”

Jack shot him a withering look.  “Don’t be ridiculous, Daniel.  If everyone knew I was a man, my work would have no credibility.  These are women, writing for women.  Actually, I think some of them are little girls writing for women, from the realism of some of the sex scenes I’ve saved on my hard drive for later.  In the humour folder.  I have to be a woman.”

“Flyboy?” Daniel queried.

“An assumed identity,” Jack explained patiently.

Daniel sat down limply.  “Let me get this straight.  You’re a gay man – “

“Celibate at this precise moment,” Jack grumbled, “but I’ll let that one go.  And not gay per se, since my cup pretty much runneth over with you.  I’ve never felt the slightest urge to have - random example here - Teal’c squirming all over me.”  He grinned as Daniel’s blush bottomed out somewhere round his knees.  Daniel brought a certain quality of enthusiasm to his intense, ongoing and protracted explorations of Jack’s body that reminded Jack irresistibly of a possessive puppy worrying at a bone that was too big for it.  Lots of concentrated licking, kissing, nibbling and growling.  Except for those occasions when Jack had Daniel inside him, and then Daniel was pure sultry confidence.  Boy, was he EVER.  “Jim himself is strictly ‘Blairsexual’ so I guess that makes me – “

“If you say it I’m going right home, storm or no storm,” Daniel snarled.  “Blairsexual?” he asked incredulously.

“According to Blair.  Some of them write him like he’s twelve years old,” Jack confessed.  “It’s disturbing, actually.  He’s a grown man, but they’re letting the curls, the big blue eyes, and the studly cop fool them.  In one story, Blair was a foot shorter than Jim, just to make sure we got it.  Poor kid is the designated bottom.  The ‘girl’.  He hardly ever gets a break. Scary stuff.”

“It certainly is, if some of the writer's are making the relationship unequal…” Daniel began.

"Wussifying…" Jack supplied helpfully.

"Disempowering,” Daniel amended, “and feminising Blair to emphasise Jim's role as the archetypal warrior-protector."

"Did you have to bring a word like ‘archetypal’ into a serious literary discussion?” Jack asked sourly.

Daniel opened his mouth, ran through the ensuing argument in his mind and closed his mouth again with a decided snap.  He settled for an apologetic look and made suitably encouraging noises to his haughty artiste.

Jack graciously acknowledged Daniel’s surrender.  “Blair seems to be the designated bottom even in stories that shouldn't know what a bottom is," Jack sighed.  Some of the denial-repression stuff wasn't pretty, and he hadn't saved a single story where Jim vented all over the kid 'cause he wouldn't admit he wanted him.

Daniel took a deep breath and tried to get a handle on flyboy's world-view.  “So, just to clarify, you’re a gay man who gets so much a couple of hours doing without feels like the end of the world, pretending to be a woman with no experience of gay sex or possibly no experience of sex at all pretending to be a repressed gay man with no experience of gay sex.”

“Just throw in Jimbo’s super powers and you’ve got it nailed,” Jack added judiciously.  “Speaking of which, it’s been ALL DAY since either one of us got nailed,” he whined.

“You had brunch on me.”

“Except for the brunch quickie.”

“See?  See!  We don’t DO quickies.  You dragged me out a deep, refreshing sleep at ten this morning and we didn’t get out of bed until two this afternoon and you’re still bitching about not getting any,” Daniel accused.  “Some people could get through a month of Friday date nights with what YOU demand out of a ‘quickie’.”

Jack bit down a grin.  It seemed petty to point out that Daniel was the one who liked to make love in the morning, especially Sunday morning, and he was the one who loved cuddling up under the covers, talking about anything or everything, snacking, making love again.  And again.  “Yeah, well, I’m getting a few ideas about demanding a LOT from the good stuff for when the drought is finally over.”

“The good stuff?”

“Some of the writers are good.  VERY good.  Some of the sex is better.  The guys are grown-ups.  These are filthy, filthy women, and I only wish I could meet some of them.  They know what nipples are for.”

Daniel blushed.

“You were a quick study,” Jack said indulgently, stealing a swift kiss.  “Now get your ass back to that report and let me work here.  And prepare to be ruthlessly exploited.”

Daniel shook his head despairingly and went back to his own laptop.  As he was powering up, a thought struck him.  “How on Earth can you write a convincing story after seeing only one episode?”

“I know all I need to know.  It’s right there in the fan fiction and the episode in question was pretty conclusive from what I’ve read.  The Big Bad Blessed Protector Jim is a mother hen with a colour co-ordinated Tupperware fetish and a MAJOR cleaning perversion.  Blair is an adorably cuddly, enthusiastic little – literally little - innocent who gets hustled home after nasty action scenes 'upset his sensitive disposition' while Big Jim does the manly cop thing.  Blair doesn't do what he's told, he wanders off, he can’t fight for shit, he has to be rescued, and he cries.  They got denial chicks all over the damn place to take our minds off the fact Jimbo would be dragging the kid into the nearest holding cell to take down his particulars every five minutes, and the denial chicks have a name.  Mary Sues.  I got all I need.”

Daniel strove for but failed to find an adequate response.

Jack glanced up, grinning fiendishly.  “I swear to God, the kid did all of those things in the episode I watched.  And it had TWO Mary Sues.  One each.  Hedging their bets, I guess.  Major mojo they’re trying to ignore.  Blistering the screen.  And it turns out the kid is actually LIVING with the cop.  Subtext my ass.”

“You’ve covered an awful lot of ground in the space of a few hours,” Daniel commented suspiciously as Jack typed furiously.

“King of Skim, that’s me,” Jack muttered distractedly.  “How the hell do you think I get through all the crap you and Carter keep inflicting on my in-tray?”  He became aware of a very crowded silence.  He looked up.  He looked down.  Quickly.  “I just bought myself another hour of report time, right?” he asked, already knowing the answer was an emphatic yes.

“At least.  And a vegetarian feast pizza.”

“Ow!”  Jack eyed his love cynically.  “How come you look all adorable and cuddly and big eyed and you’re actually a vindictive prick?”

“You got lucky,” Daniel smiled sweetly.  “And you put up with me because you want to keep right on getting lucky.”

“See?  Mean,” Jack complained to the room at large before the lure of creativity sucked him back into the depths of formulating deathless fan fic prose.

”What’s the title of this epic work?” Daniel asked after a discreet interval and very little in the way of productivity on his part.

“’Blair’s Savage Secret’,” Jack typed a little more.  “Stop laughing.  It’s either that or ‘Primal Impulse’.  I’m subverting the sub-genre.  Gonna play along with the helpless Guide/studly Blessed Protector thing until the end, then the poor kid gets to drill the big guy up the ass for once.”

“Can’t be ‘Blair’s Savage Secret’, then,” Daniel suggested fair-mindedly.  “You’ll clue in your audience at the start.  ‘Primal Impulse’ is better.”  Daniel did a little desultory typing.  “Subverting the sub-genre?” he asked softly.

Jack looked up again.  He smiled.  Very big, very blue, and right now very soft eyes were fixed on him.  Daniel melted whenever Jack gave any hint whatsoever he was either listening to Daniel or just learning new shit out and about on his own.  That softness suggested a rapid final read through and the meat feast from Domino’s, side order of naked archaeologist to go.  Tender hearted.  Susceptible.  Hmm.  “What do you want to be called?”

“What?” Daniel stiffened.

O-kaay.  So Danny wasn't THAT susceptible.  “You’re going to be in the story, and Daniel is too obvious.  OMC.”  Jack threw that in deliberately to throw Daniel off the scent. Daniel would ask.  Daniel needed to know.  He always needed to know.  It was one of those immutable things.  Maybe even archetypal.

“OMC?”

“That’s guy for Mary Sue.”

“I don’t want to be anything in your story.”

“Well you are.  I need you.  I’ve already rejected the idea of having me as the main OMC, Jim’s superior officer from way back when, a mission gone wrong, torturing us both with guilt, his fault of course,“ Jack challenged.  He had considered some him-Jim UST but he was about as attracted to Jim as he was to Carter, so he was regretfully letting that cliché go.

“Oh, of course,” Daniel gushed, rolling his eyes.

“But that wouldn’t work.  Blair would drop Jimbo in a heartbeat if I was on the table.”

Daniel took in the predatory gleam in Jack’s eyes and put his head in his hands, despairing.  “You mean that literally, don’t you?  Jeez.”

“Kitchen sex is hot,” Jack said crisply.  “I’m conscious of my demographic, here.”

“Demographic?” Daniel’s head snapped up.  “You’re not thinking of letting anyone read this story, are you?”

“Why write it if only I get to read it?” Jack said reasonably.  “It’s a good story.  Visiting student friend – that’s you – seducing sweet little Blair," he glanced at Daniel shiftily, "well, kinda."  And it had to be Blair.  No way was Jim getting his claws into Danny even in the guise of a gratuitously exploited OMC.  "Blair comes home dazed.  Jim smells you on the kid – he’s always sniffing Blair for some reason.  Super powers, I guess.  And listening to the kid’s heartbeat.  Voyeur if you ask me.  Anyway,” Jack dragged himself back to the point, “Jim goes NUTSO and throws Blair out – that’s a fan fiction classic too – guy gets crazy jealous – what?” Jack demanded as Daniel buried his head in his hands again.  Daniel’s shoulders were shaking.  “I do NOT get jealous.  I’m protective.  I have to be, because it took a five-alarm hard-on and my tongue down your throat for you to pick up on the sparkage between US.  That’s the ONLY alarm I want you feeling.  Speaking of which – “

“No.”

“It would help me to visualise, and we’re right here AT the table,” Jack wheedled.

“No.”

“Mean-spirited shit,” Jack sighed.  “Stifling my creativity, here."  That appeal also failed to yield visible results.  Jack abandoned the unequal struggle.  "Anyway, Blair moves into your hotel room with you, and Jim does the psycho stalker thing he’s apparently pre-programmed to do if it looks like he’s going to lose his guide, and in the middle of this it turns out you have this – “

“Pathologically jealous, devilishly handsome, dangerously sexy older boyfriend with shady government connections?” Daniel was appalled, he just KNEW how Jack’s mind worked.

“Devilishly handsome?” Jack straightened up, beaming.  “Dangerously sexy?”

“Fan fiction hyperbole,” Daniel quelled him.

Jack scowled.  “I’m excising all references to pert buttocks, then.”

“Thank God for small mercies.”  Daniel eyed Jack’s sleek, deceptive innocence dubiously.  “No.”

“What?” Jack tapped each key, slowly.  Precisely.  Tauntingly.

“No.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No goddamn way you and me and Blair have a threesome.  NO.”

“I have full creative control, here, and don’t criticise my sex scenes until you can make me come just by biting my tongue.”

“Jack, I can make you come just by biting MY tongue,” Daniel smiled sweetly.  “And YOU need a beta reader.”

“A what?”

“A beta reader.  To check for grammar, punctuation, spelling, insane plots and ludicrous characterisation.”

“And that would be you, would it?”

“It would indeed,” Daniel said firmly.  “So just email that puppy on over the moment it’s finished.”

“To your officially assigned USAF email?  Or…” Jack let it trail off gently.  He smiled wolfishly as Daniel glowered at him suspiciously.  “Check out chocolate_covered_archaeologist,” he taunted, “also at yahoo.com.  Sexy Naked Archaeologist was already taken and Studly Spacemonkey was too obvious.”

“You can’t save the day, you know,” Daniel ignored the deliberate provocation, because he had a horrible feeling he’d find that email account when he went looking for it, and he was sure now he had a firm grip on Jack's terrifying creative processes.  “That has to be Blair.”

“Jim,” Jack corrected absently.  “Blair is the rescu-ee, not the rescu-er.  And I can save the day if I want.  I’m an OMC.  It’s my JOB.  I get to be skilled and resourceful as well as devilishly handsome and dangerously sexy.  Just kiss my ass and call me Mary Sue.”

Daniel shook his head in a vain attempt to clear it, then cautiously loaded IE5.  Unlike Jack, he had a wireless modem on his laptop.  He also had way more ram, a bigger hard drive and a multi-processor kernel that gave the colonel a severe case of laptop envy every time he whipped it out.  Daniel pulled up Yahoo from his favourites and hit the mail button.  After typing in the username he had no hesitation in typing in **** as the password.  It couldn’t be anything else, not with an ego the size of Planet Jack to deal with.  It wasn’t anything else, and he had two emails, one from Yahoo and one from flyboy_fanfic.  Daniel read, digested, did a quick web search, hit the reply button and rapidly typed a restrained - under the circumstances - response.  Then he hit send.

Jack knew it was only a matter of time before he got an answer to his various suggestions, so he was alternating between saving his story and hitting the check mail button.  He grinned when he saw that Daniel had tabled a response.

 *******   
Date:        Sun, 27 Aug 2000 19:07:41 (MDT)   
From:       chocolate_covered_archaeologist@yahoo.com   
Subject:   Primal Impulse   
To:           flyboy_fanfic@yahoo.com

They’re hanging just fine, flyboy, thank you.

 _> Hey gorgeous!_   
_> Can we have sex?  How about you just…_   
_> <snipped>_

No, we can’t.  Not now.  Possibly not ever.  And if you pull what I snipped, your email won’t be the only thing singing soprano.

_> How do you feel about being called Sebastian?_

I hate it.  I do not want to be in this story.  If you persist in your attempts to write me into this story to exploit me for gratuitously graphic ‘three on a table’ sex scenes I’m going to smack you in the head with your laptop.

I also hate James, Will, Benjamin, Julian and Jean-Luc.  I wish you’d watch something that didn’t make your brain rot, unlike the Sci-Fi channel.  I’m only glad you didn’t try to saddle me with Obi-something.  I know all about your thing for padawans and their light sabres.  And in the interests of accuracy, I’m fairly confident that ‘Jackson Heights’ is a suburb in New York.  And finally, FYI, they named the DOG Indiana!

_> I take it you have no strenuous objections to a little BDSM?  Blair takes it on as well as up the ass in a lot of stories.  How about  <snipped>_

I know perfectly well you’re NOT just talking about the story!  Having identified the source of this acronym, all I can say is any part of you that touches me, you don’t get back, and if you wave any kind of implement at me with sex in mind, I’ll be using it on YOU where the sun don’t shine.

_> picture galleries…can’t carry you around in my wallet, can I?_

‘BOONIE BOY’????  You’ve been taking PICTURES of me?  With MY camera?  Oh my God!  I thought you were taking pictures of the structures for me!  You were joking about the photos of my ass, right?  Right?

_> firmware_

That’s disgusting.

_> <snipped>_

Well, okay, if you don’t annoy me to the point I have to concuss you, the answer is yes.

_> love you_

Why is frankly beyond me, but, yes, I love you too.  Now leave me alone.

_> p.s  <snipped>_

I don’t want to be IN the damn story, and I certainly don’t want to be kidnapped and tortured with Blair just so you and Jim have to join forces to kick majorly bad guy ass and rescue us.  No.  N-O.  Not even if the two of you DO reach a grudging big cojones mutual respect thing as a result.  You’re NOT the Lone Ranger and I’m certainly not frigging Tonto, and this story isn’t supposed to be about US anyway.

_> p.s p.s Hi Ho Silver! Away!!_

That was NOT funny.

_> breakfast_

Not marmalade, though, it’s too sticky.  And nothing with seeds.  You simply can’t get them all, and God knows you give it your best shot every time.

_> yours_

Mine?  You certainly are.

C.C.A.

p.s. Yes, my head still hurts.

p.p.s Yes, please, just so long as you’ve grasped that pickles DON’T go with tuna in any world that makes sense.

*******

Jack created himself a C.C.A folder, moved the mail, then shut down Yahoo.  Danny wasn’t up to playing so – he shrugged.  “Philistine.  Pickles very definitely go with tuna,” Jack grinned.  “And no, you’re not having coffee, not with that headache.”  He saved his story one last time then put the laptop on stand by.  “Finish the conclusion and I’ll proof read the report for you.  If I don’t get it, Captain Noble won’t either.”  He nodded, satisfied, when Daniel just smiled gratefully, and headed off to make the sandwiches.

It hurt to do this to innocent canned tuna, but this was how Danny liked it, and Danny wasn’t feeling shit hot, so this was how Danny would get it.  Jack delved into the freezer for sweetcorn, the bottom corner cupboard for a bowl, plates and a glass, the top corner cupboard for the balsamic vinegar.  Then he grabbed submarine rolls, salad and mayo, and a potato.  Heated, chopped, sliced and diced, mashed and dished.  Three large sandwiches, one small, crisp, artistically arranged tuna salad with a hot potato in its skin, one milk, one beer, two aspirin.  And probably an early night and a long, recuperative sleep for Daniel if he could pry him away from his spell checker.

When he emerged from the kitchen, Jack found Daniel sitting at Jack’s laptop, looking distinctly accusatory.

“Boonie Boy?” Daniel challenged.

“Nothing you couldn’t show Carter,” Jack said lightly. “All the sexy naked archaeologist pictures are password protected.”  He slid Daniel’s plate and glass to a spot by the laptop and nodded.  “Go ahead.  I know you’re dying to read it.”  He set his own plate and bottle down by Daniel’s laptop and sighed.  One pristine document, open and waiting.

“Thank you,” Daniel delved into the tuna.  It was so easy to add too much balsamic and overwhelm the other flavours.  He tasted cautiously.  “This is great,” he praised lavishly.  Jack sulked if Daniel didn't enthuse at length about every single thing prepared by Jack's fair hands, and if he didn't enthuse fast enough, Jack started asking questions.  The only appropriate response to a loaded throwaway comment like 'I think I used too much chilli' was to guzzle down the iced water after every mouthful and insist he could barely taste it.  Allergies tended to cover incidental side-effects such as wheezing or streaming eyes.  In fact, allergies were vital survival tools in Jack's kitchen.  In return, Jack sniffed haughtily and picked at every nutritionally balanced gourmet meal lovingly prepared with the very best of fresh ingredients until he was absolutely positive Daniel accepted on a molecular level the magnitude of the favour Jack was doing him by choking it down just to please him.  Then Jack fell on it like a starving wolf pack bringing down an elk.  Daniel fully sympathised with the travails of various SGC parents who described in graphic detail the agonies they went through every time they tried to get a six-year old to eat a carrot.  Daniel had a similar experience every time he served Jack broccoli, and he, like the parents, had learned the hard way the ONLY way to compel obedience was by threatening to withhold dessert.

“This is no way to treat tuna,” Jack corrected.  It tasted good, but it wasn’t traditional.  Daniel had changed his life in lots of ways he’d never considered way back when the only thing on his mind had been burying himself in Daniel’s ass forever.  Five months – or two, given his downtime on Edora – together, and the ONLY spot on Daniel he hadn’t buried himself was Daniel’s ass.  Jack had been ready on day one, Daniel still wasn’t ready, and since it was Daniel’s virgin ass in question, he had the final say.  Jack was waiting with patience for the day Daniel stopped tensing up when Jack’s tongue or a careful finger slid inside him.  Daniel enjoyed it, once he relaxed, and Jack had learned he could coax Daniel into an incredible gentle orgasm which just rippled through him endlessly if Jack was careful, could hold Daniel just there.  In the meantime, he had to put up with shit like…balsamic vinegar.

Jack started wolfing down his sandwiches and reading at the same time.  Then he had to stop wolfing in order to open up the Webster's dictionary Daniel had stored on the hard drive.  After reading the first few paragraphs of the introduction, Jack opened the Oxford English too, just to be on the safe side.  Then he got back to wolfing and reading.  Carter could actually learn a lot from the way Daniel wrote his research papers and reports.  Daniel was in some ways a frustrated teacher; he no sooner learned a thing than he wanted to share it.  It wasn't Daniel's fault Jack tended to shut him down. It wasn't really fair, but Jack just couldn't get past the idea you didn't keep a dog and bark yourself.  It was wasteful.  If he REALLY needed to know something, he could always ask.  Daniel always explained so he could understand, and he wasn't giving Jack the Sesame Street version, his written papers were just as clear, just as comprehensive.

The only problem was Daniel knew too much for the rest of them to keep up with him, and he used language very precisely, used one appropriate multi-syllabic monster instead of ten sloppy sentence fillers to share all the things he knew.  Some of the vocabulary challenged had to look stuff up.  The guys on the base never got in slanging matches with Daniel.  One, he was a really sweet guy who remembered your pet guppy was called Pete, and everyone knew he was.  Two, when sufficiently provoked, he tended to call people names they had to go away and look up, which meant they either had to look dumb at the time or come back later and admit they'd had to hit the dictionary to work out they'd just been royally insulted.  A snappy comeback was impossible in either event.  Three, Jack would kill them.  It was mostly one and two though.

Jack had the dictionaries open because Daniel had a headache and he didn't want to bother him if he didn't have to.  Acting dumb was smart.  It was sometimes the smartest thing he could do.  It led to underestimation. Daniel was the exact opposite.  He was smart, and that led to underestimation too.  Being smart didn't make Daniel weak, any more than acting dumb and mouthy made Jack stupid. He glanced up and grinned at the bowed head.  Daniel certainly never confused ignorance with inability.

Hmm.  Jack noted that Daniel was now the equivalent of three sandwiches and about to be two beers into the story.  He was very quiet.  "This is LOL stuff," Jack prompted.

"'LOL'?"

"Laugh out loud."

"I'm laughing on the inside."

"Oh."  Jack got up to fetch another beer, slightly disappointed.  When he strolled back to the report, which was surprisingly fluent, given Daniel's headache, Daniel was waiting, in what Jack realised was probably full-on 'beta' mode.

"James Kirke?  You think that leaving out the 'T' and adding an 'e' will in any way disguise your, for want of a better word, inspiration?"  Daniel drawled, shaking his head.  "You have one 'Jim' too many for this story and if one of you has to go, it won't be Big Jim.  Frankly, I think I'm getting off light with Jonathan.  Which brings me to my second point," he said smoothly.

Jack scowled.  "It was a graceful homage."

"It was a thinly disguised attempt to work in a lot of bad Star Trek jokes."

"Make it Mac then," Jack snarled.

"Why?"

"No reason," Jack said innocently.

"Mac what?" Daniel asked, clicking on 'find' ready to begin the laborious process of search and destroy on Jack’s alter ego.  It could take some time.  Jack or rather James cropped up throughout the text.  Like a rash.  “Big Mac?” he muttered sotto voce.

"Just Mac," Jack said evasively.  Daniel scowled at him.  Jack scowled back.  "Mystique," he suggested sullenly.  He wasn't sitting here tearing Daniel's turgid report to shreds, was he?  He wasn't being petty.  He was being helpful.  Supportive.  Clearly alien concepts to Doctor Clever Dick Beta Shredder Jackson.

Daniel eyed the brewing storm signs and sighed.  "About 'Jonathan'?"

"Yes?" Jack snapped.

"There is a certain - lyricism - to the physical descriptions suggesting - um…" Daniel faltered.  "Suggesting…"

"Suggesting what?  WHAT?" Jack snarled.  He'd spent AGES getting that just right.  You would have thought it would be easy, what with the primary source sitting there half-naked on the other side of a laptop.  "I left out 'prick' did I?"

"No-o," Daniel said judiciously.  He blushed.  "Jonathan is - um - blessed."  Built was more accurate.  He was also dazzlingly beautiful, slender, sleekly muscled, graceful, and the possessor of an enchantingly sweet, not to say shy, little smile, a lot of silken skin and ludicrously long lashes framing huge sapphire eyes.  All of which suggested - well - he stared at Jack, shaking his head despairingly.  "Suggesting you're six feet two inches of marshmallow with an MP5."  Jack had it BAD.  Bad enough to plumb depths of sappiness even Daniel, the recipient of Jack’s tenderest feelings, had never suspected.  "Pert?" Daniel asked abruptly, the blush deepening.

Jack caught the sparkling eyes and the quivering lips and let the mushy crack go.  It was never wise to attack from a position of weakness.  "And perfect," he agreed softly.  "Just…peachy, in fact."  He tried out a hopeful leer, just in case Daniel was becoming more amenable to, say hauling the ass in question into the bedroom for a little literary criticism.

"That level of sappiness in a grown man, let alone a Special Ops colonel,” Daniel sighed.  “It’s tragic."

Or not.  Jack glared at Daniel's once again bowed head and ploughed into the report again.  He was annoyed not to find so much as a typo to ostentatiously correct or a single out of place tongue twister in Daniel’s report.  The frigging story was his first EVER attempt at creative writing.  He'd thought Daniel would be more sympathetic.  Encouraging.  And if Jack timed it right, willing to try out the sex scene on page eleven.  A snort made him look up.  That was LOL.  "Page eleven?" he asked hopefully.

"Page fifteen."

"Oh."  Oh.  "You didn't care for page eleven?"

"You'll have to apply to me directly," Daniel said crisply.  "If that's what you have in mind."

"Oh."  O-oh.  Jack cheered up.

"But not right now," Daniel added hurriedly.

"Oh."  Jack sagged and scrolled pettishly down a few pages.  Then he felt guilty and scrolled back up.  He scowled at Daniel, industriously beta-ing.  And snorting from time to time with ill-suppressed amusement.  Sweet little Blair was looking pretty good right now.

Daniel looked at the screen.  He wasn't on page fifteen, he was on page nineteen, at the point where Jonathan was comforting Blair.  Blair was getting in a little practice on what Jack had in mind for the climax - pun obviously intended - of the story.  Jonathan had been sharing Blair's bed for less than two days and he'd - well - it was a little troubling.  Daniel had technically been sharing Jack's bed for two months and he…hadn't.

Jack looked up as Daniel quickly looked down, noted the sudden tension in the shoulders…"It's not a hint, and believe me, it is NOT an issue,'" he said briskly.

"But you want it.  You want me."

Jack looked at Daniel's pensive face and decided the naked truth wouldn't hurt for once.  "Daniel, I wanted it the first night we made love.  No one was more aware than I that you didn't know what the hell you wanted, and I was pretty sure if I'd pushed it, you would have given me what I wanted while you worked it out," he said dryly.  Once he'd gotten over the initial shock of Jack's declaration, and the first orgasm he'd had in his right mind for years, Daniel had been ready to try anything.  Daniel had been so fearless, so trusting, and so shocked at the speed it had all happened, Jack had just sighed and let it go, waiting for the right time.  Three months stranded on Edora, during which Jack had been unfaithful, and then, not to put too fine a point on it, breaking up for the fascinated audience with the surveillance equipment before they’d even begun to deal with what had happened between Jack and Laira, meant they hadn't reached the right time yet.  Daniel had forgiven Jack freely for both betrayals of trust, so Jack fucking Daniel by proxy in a parody while Daniel was still edging up to the main event in reality was a pretty shitty thing to do.  It was a sweet scene, and a good time was had by all, but still, it was shitty.  He shot Daniel an apologetic look, guessing he'd be waiting a while longer.

Daniel decided to table the discussion for now.  Jack had never put any pressure on him, quite the opposite, and it would be foolish to allow himself to become self-conscious over - well, he had an idea about how he wanted his first time, and it didn't involve a bed.  Maybe it was a little kinky, but his fantasy involved his desk, the smell and texture of the written word filling his senses as Jack slipped inside him.  And rain.  Soft rain, deadening the noise of the city, making Daniel feel like he and Jack were the only two people in the world.  Skin, and striving together, their sighing echoed in the rain.  He glanced up and realised Jack was watching him intently.  He smiled reassuringly and decided to tackle page twenty-one, which was where Jack had started to run out of steam in the post-orgasmic kidnap sequence.  He really needed to speak to Jack about the font too, the text was huge, hence the staggeringly prolific output.  Jack was clearly a stranger to writer’s block, and apparently had eyestrain he was hiding from Janet.

"You've slipped up in the action scene," Daniel announced, grinning as his colonel stiffened alarmingly.

"I DON'T think so."

"You did," Daniel insisted.  "Blair is acting completely out of character.  Instead of bleating in terror and falling over his own feet, he stabs one of the kidnappers with a table fork and kicks him in the balls after the loveless bastard knocks him on his ass."

Jack was slightly embarrassed.  "Anybody would do that," he said defensively.

"I don't think 'anybody' would tackle an armed man with a table fork."

"Ha!" Jack crowed triumphantly.  "He didn't have the gun then, you'd - Jonathan had disarmed him."  He smirked at Daniel.  "And you - Jonathan - CAN do that.  I've SEEN you  - him."  It occurred to Jack belatedly that this might just come off as encouraging Daniel to repeat an act which had taken ten years each off Jack, Carter and probably Junior, come to think of it.  Teal'c had looked like he was sucking a lemon for days after.  Daniel had brushed off a trio of gently worded lectures on the theme of scaring the shit out of his team, and none of them had been able to adequately answer some pithy counter-questions about incidentals like being pinned down.  "You being a wuss would be much easier on my nerves," Jack coaxed.  "Give it a chance.  You might like it."

"I could, but then you'd need to give Robert another chance, because you'd be so incensed you'd throw my ass off the team the first time I dropped you in the shit by hiding instead of shooting," Daniel hooted.  "And knowing you, the fallout would not be pretty."

"It was worth a shot," Jack shrugged philosophically.  "And I'd kick your ass before I did any throwing."

"It's always worth a shot," Daniel encouraged.  "It just won't happen."

Jack nodded reluctantly and got back to his proof reading.  He looked up after a moment.  "What do you mean, knowing me?  Knowing me what?"

"Nothing." Daniel lowered his head demurely, hiding a grin.

"'The fallout would not pretty' isn't nothing.  What?"  Jack glared.  "Knowing me, WHAT?"

 

* * *

Jack threw up his forearm and neatly blocked the out-flung arm before the blow could land.  He kept hold until Daniel relaxed, then gently lowered Daniel’s hand back down to the cover.  He peered up at the clock. Dear God. Two am.  Jack rubbed his gritty eyes and took a calculated risk.  No guts – no rest.  He sat up and carefully placed both hands on Daniel’s ribs and waited for a reaction.  All remained calm.  It could be deceptive calm, or it could be actual calm.  He’d never know unless he…you know…tried it.  Taking a deep breath, Jack carefully nudged Daniel over onto his side, then slid both hands round to the small of his back, gently urging Daniel onto his front in nice, easy increments.  Daniel sighed and snuggled his face into the pillow.

Jack sighed too, then slowly stretched himself out, keeping a wary eye on his restless love.  Daniel was NOT a happy camper.  In this sleep mode – as opposed to Sinus mode, which had its own way of murdering sleep - Daniel demanded every scrap of alertness and combat training Jack could muster.  Delays cost ribs.

Jack was JUST starting to relax when some unsettled head tossing told him Daniel was about to happen to him, big time.  Not embarrassed in the slightest to be such a wuss, Jack instantly rolled off the edge of the bed, demonstrating his usual flawless, stylish and frankly well practiced dismount, vacating his spot a moment before Daniel rolled rapidly into it, arms and legs splaying everywhere.  Bitter experience had proven if Jack delayed too long, Daniel would roll right over him and fall out.  He would then indignantly accuse Jack of shoving him out of bed.  Not bothering to hide his goofy, reminiscent grin, Jack trotted around to Daniel’s side of the bed.  Sure as God made little apples, the moment Jack’s head cautiously hit the pillow, Daniel rolled back, flinging his arm violently across Jack’s neck.

“OOOF!”

Jeez!  Slightly hampered by being on his side, and slightly regretting all that time and training he’d invested in Daniel’s self-defence skills, Jack tried to pry loose the textbook chokehold, not at all softened by a few random kisses scattered over his shoulder, or the soft sigh of satisfaction, or the snuggling.  After some ineffectual tugging, he eventually had to peel each finger loose one by one, firmly holding onto Daniel’s hand for good measure.

He sighed heavily.  He’d once slept on the couch when Daniel got like this, and all it got him was a stiff neck and an equally stiff Daniel, who was hurt AND self-conscious.  Admittedly, helping Daniel to work through his abandonment issues had been fun with a capital F-U-C-K, but still…Jack shrugged.  He was TOTALLY committed to Daniel, and on nights like this, commitment meant possible concussion.

Daniel nudged at his back.  Jack hitched over.  Daniel nudged again.  Jack hitched over again.  Daniel shoved hard and Jack tumbled off the edge of the bed, throwing his weight forward to roll smoothly onto his back as he landed bonelessly on the carpet.  Sleeping with Daniel was honing his reflexes to perfection.

Jack cut his losses, stretched out and pillowed his head on his hands.  Hmm.  He was pretty comfortable right here.  Maybe he could…

“Ja-ack?”

The plaintive, sleepy mutter gave him a different idea.  Maybe Daniel would sleep better if Jack, say, wore him out.

“Jack?”

Daniel’s puzzled face appeared over the edge of the bed, chin propped on balled fists.  Jack beamed up at him.

“Restless?” Daniel asked sympathetically.

Jack eyed him incredulously for some time, debating whether to say something or not, then pulled himself together and shook it off.  Plaintive could so easily segue into pissy.  “Horny,” he murmured huskily, trying out the pantomime leer which never failed to - aah.  He reached up for the solemnly outstretched hand and tenderly kissed the veins at Daniel’s wrist.

“Come up and see me some time,” Daniel whispered just as huskily, cupping his hand over Jack’s hungrily kissing mouth.  “Any time,” he invited.  Jack was suckling each finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue sensuously around each tip, then blowing gently on the dampened skin, making Daniel shiver in the now blessedly cool night air.  Daniel swallowed hard.  “No time like the present.”

“Mmmph?”

“Get UP here, Jack,” Daniel ordered briskly.  “NOW!”

Jack laughed when eager hands yanked at him.  Daniel seemed determined to literally haul his ass into bed.  Jack had no fault whatsoever to find with that.  In fact, he was happy to lend an assist, jumping to his feet and diving enthusiastically onto the invitingly sprawled Jackson welcome wagon.  It took Daniel about three seconds to wrap every limb around him and start licking his lips.  Jack moaned theatrically and licked Daniel’s lips in return.  He DREAMED about Daniel’s lips.  Strictly speaking, he had dreams about each and every part of Daniel, but the lips – or rather the pout – loomed large in all of them.

Daniel shivered and shook as Jack’s coveting hands roamed over every inch of him with rough, possessive passion, greedy lips suckling at his nipples until he ACHED inside.  Jack’s encouraging groans of appreciation grew hoarse as Daniel stroked and fondled Jack’s back and butt, skimmed over his heaving flanks.  Daniel clamped his hands to the back of Jack’s head and dragged him down into a delirious kiss of clashing lips and teeth, and warring tongues.  Jack wrenched away from him, froze, staring down into Daniel’s face for long seconds, his own harsh with wanting.  Daniel wasn’t fooled.  Jack’s glittering eyes were soft.  Intense but soft, as always.  Daniel strained up under Jack’s weight and they touched tongues, flickering, teasing, seducing, neither willing to cave and invite the other in.

Daniel broke the deadlock with a tactic Jack loved.  He wrapped his legs around Jack’s back, not bothering to hide his grin as Jack hissed with pleasure each time their straining erections kissed.  Jack tumbled into Daniel’s waiting embrace and thrust powerfully against him.  Daniel moaned his own appreciation, luxuriating in the glide and play of sleek, taut muscles under his stroking hands, between his clenched thighs, sliding over and over his stomach, his chest…Jack feasting on his throat…God, he loved this.  Didn’t know how he’d survived so long without being loved, without desire.

Jack was devouring all the quivering, sweat-dewed skin he could reach, delighting in the helpless moans of the man beneath him as Daniel clung to him desperately, head thrashing on the pillow as Jack drove into his body again and again.  He had no fear of letting himself go like this, even though it wasn’t like them to go mental, found his own strength met and answered as Daniel’s hips surged up, lifting them both from the bed, Daniel laughing at Jack’s surprise.

“Oh YEAH!” Jack howled, picking up the pace as Daniel nipped and worried at his shoulder.  “YEAH, B-mmmph!” he sputtered indignantly into the hand Daniel had just slapped across his mouth.

“Don’t,” Daniel warned softly.  “Don’t say it.  I can barely tolerate THAT in the living room.  He doesn’t come to bed with us.”

Jack made with the big, hurt puppy eyes and the innocent ‘who me?’s.  He also took the opportunity to lick hungrily at Daniel’s palm.  Sooner or later Daniel’s arm would get tired…

Daniel lowered his hand, glaring suspiciously.  Jack LOOKED suitably cowed…

Jack lowered his head and stole a kiss, nibbling on Daniel’s lips until they parted, plunging his tongue deep into Daniel’s mouth, and having a fight on his hands – so to speak - to keep it there.  Danny was feeling FEISTY.  Jack’s tongue butted, jabbed, poked, pressed, prodded, pushed, rammed, shoved and stabbed.  Vigorously.  Jack’s tongue did ALL those things – vigorously - and the whole damn time Daniel just lay there gazing up at him with his patented ‘Is this ALL you’ve got?  Wake me when it gets interesting…’ challenge.  Jack sullenly backed off from giving his all.  He glared at Daniel.  “Yeah, BABY!” he drawled deliberately, insultingly.

“Bastard!”  Daniel bucked and heaved, cursing Jack in every language he knew, which took some time, hoping to get Jack even more excited and out of hand.  Jack was heaving bawdily right back at him, driving into Daniel harsh and fast, jolting him relentlessly up the bed.  Daniel tightened his legs encouragingly around Jack’s back, whimpering through clenched teeth as the ecstasy slammed through him with Jack’s every thrust.  He scrabbled behind him for enough traction to sit up before Jack’s implacable passionate onslaught concussed him against the headboard.

“You awake NOW?  INTERESTING enough for you NOW?” Jack snarled as they wound up sprawled against the pillows.  “I got enough for you NOW?”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about Jack, but yes, yes, YES,” Daniel gasped hoarsely as Jack’s fingers twined with his and pinned his hands against the wall.  The sweat was stinging his eyes, his throat was burning as he gasped and fought for breath, losing as Jack stole the last of it with a toe-curlingly wanton kiss.  Daniel was dazed, shaking like a leaf, poised on a knife’s edge between pleasure and pain when Jack’s back arched violently and scalding slickness erupted against his burning skin as Jack sobbed into his mouth.  The pleasure exploded in Daniel’s head and he came HARD, hips spasming violently, vision dimming.

He was still fighting for breath when Jack pulled himself together enough to yank Daniel back down the bed and tumble down next to him.  “Mmm,” Daniel breathed, nestling into Jack’s cradling arms.  “Mmm.”

“Mm hm,” Jack agreed.  They were both offensively sated, sweaty and sticky, but as his spine seemed to have dissolved, he couldn’t do a damn thing about any of it.  He stretched luxuriously, gently petting every part of Daniel he could reach as he got himself comfortable.

“For God’s sake, Jack, lie still.  I’m trying to sleep.”


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slash: Jack and Daniel involved in a loving and committed relationship, which usually involves sex.  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Category: Established Relationship. Humour. Romance.  
> Season/Spoilers: Seasons 3 and 4. Events to Small Victories.  
> Synopsis: Jack does it better than Jim.  
> Warnings: None.

Jack had to admit medical leave was pretty good for creativity.  He could probably have gotten away with light duties for a week, but after he, Carter, Janet and Teal’c had all visited General Hammond independently to express their ‘concern’ for Daniel’s well-being in light of this latest family separation, the general had expressed HIS concern to Dr Fraiser.  As a result, they had all been subjected to some not particularly invasive tests for residual muon radiation and hustled off to their respective homes to recuperate.  Except for Jack, obviously.  He’d been hustled off to Daniel’s home after a last visit to the general to express concern about Daniel being all alone recuperating in his home when they were all worried about his well-being in theirs.  Daniel had apparently seen Jack falling flat on his face in the infirmary, and he knew that Carter was still far from well, so it hadn’t taken much acting on Jack’s part to convince Daniel that he was the one Daniel should be worried about.  Daniel had duly worried.

Jack was pretty much lounging around Daniel’s loft looking pathetic and irradiated, forced to endure all the tender, loving care an anxious Daniel could lavish on him, which was a LOT.  Being slightly ill had never been this much fun.  No ice cream flavour was too outrageous to be whipped up on the spot, no movie too violent and inane to be rented, no meal too difficult to prepare, no expensive imported beer too chilled to – what was his point?  Oh.  Yeah.  That.  Jack’s point was that Daniel was so busy seeing to Jack’s needs he had no time to brood.  Daniel needed a lot of tactile reassurance, and Jack was just the man for the job.  It was impossible for Daniel to get existential about not being able to touch things when Jack had, for example, spent two hours licking him from head to toe.  It was impossible for Daniel to get irritated about Jack being an ass when he was buried to the root IN Jack’s ass.  Daniel had gotten the point.  He was still here, he was fine, he wasn’t for example, dead and haunting Jack.  Nick was sane and safe, even if he wasn’t here, and his life’s work was finally seeing fruition.

Daniel was doing much better, to the point where HE was starting to milk the ‘not being able to touch’ thing until it mooed, so, with Daniel’s gracious consent, Jack had graduated from the bed to the couch in between the tactile therapy sessions.  This had made it a lot easier for Jack to answer the phone, which rang almost non-stop until Jack had threatened to demote Carter. He had hollered this at considerable volume, and with a certain pitch of emotion, but the general was probably going to let it go.  Jack had apologised at once for his mistake, and things had certainly been a lot quieter since, so Jack tried not to let his mind dwell on himself and demotion.

A lot of whining had still only netted him his own laptop, not Daniel’s super duper, all the bells and whistles Ferrari, but even his old beater was enough to let him finish the story.  Speaking of which, Jack craned his neck and glowered over at Daniel, sitting innocently at his desk, beta reading the finished product.  Beta reading was clearly a euphemism for re-writing in this case.  The keyboard to screen ratio was something like two to one.  Two minutes typing to one minute reading, and none of it was for typos, because Jack had checked.  He was discouraged from further checking.  Daniel had pointed out kindly but firmly that as Jack’s demographic wouldn’t have him breathing down their necks while they read, he would just have to live without the privilege too.  There had been some pithy stuff about explanations and justifications being good, absolutely, just so long as they were in the text and NOT in Jack’s head or ringing in Daniel’s ears.  Not too long after that Daniel had threatened to send him home if he didn’t leave Daniel the hell alone, so he’d backed off to the couch and glowered for all he was worth.  A lot of the glowering was because he was also extremely annoyed Daniel had password protected the beta document and hadn’t forgotten to hit save and close ONCE.  In two days.  Not exactly a rush edit job, this.

“Finished,” Daniel announced with satisfaction.  “Just let me email it to you and…“

“Don’t be stupid, Daniel, just let me look at it on your laptop,” Jack said casually.  Get ON with it, MOVE.  DYING here.

Daniel decided discretion was the better part of survival, grinned, and headed off to the kitchen to make dinner.  Jack wanted chicken pie, so they were having roast chicken en croûte, which meant a lot of work and a little explaining at the dinner table.

Jack didn’t trust the glint in Daniel’s eye or the mischievous grin one bit.  He waited coolly until Daniel was safely out of sight in the kitchen, then bolted over to the laptop.  The beta document was already open and waiting.  Jack didn’t have to scroll very far to find the first comment.

**PRIMAL IMPULSE**

_//The title is both pretentious and meaningless, and SHOUTING it doesn’t aid the reader to attain clarity.//_

**By flyboy_fanfic**

_//Thanks for using the smaller font.  Much easier on the eyes.  Did you mention your eye strain to Janet, BTW?//_

Daniel added insult to injury by choosing this exact moment to loom up behind him with an impeccably chilled beer and a bowl of assorted snacks to take the edge off his hunger until dinner.  He actually ruffled Jack’s hair before trotting back to the kitchen.  Chuckling.  Jack eyed his retreating form sourly.  Oh yes, Daniel had clearly had a WHALE of a time with Jack’s story.

Jack read on.  The opening paragraphs had survived more or less unscathed, so – oh.

_//It would have been helpful if you’d mentioned where we were at the top of this section, not only to give the reader a vivid sense of place and time, but because finding out here they’re in the police station and not the loft means that the above conversation is far too frank.  Either the conversation has to go, or the location has to be changed.  Anyone could walk in on an argument like this, a fact of which they are well aware, so they wouldn’t have an argument like this *here*.//_

Jack sighed and went to his laptop to email the story to himself.  When he’d downloaded it on Daniel’s laptop, he opened both documents side by side and typed Jim and Blair out of the station and into the loft.  Daniel was going to be infuriatingly reasonable and constructive, Jack could tell.  The little shit was doing it on purpose, just so Jack couldn’t go postal over all the interference.

He read a little further.

**Blair gazed up into limpid sapphire pools framed by sweeping sooty lashes, overwhelmed by a rush of memories, of a love that wasn’t meant to be.  He returned the shy, hopeful smile tentatively.  “Jonathan,” he acknowledged softly.**

_//Just how many Harlequin romance novels have you read, BTW?  This isn’t the love that dare not speak its name, this is the love that hollers loudly all over the internet.  Don’t be coy.  If I was being pedantic, here, I’d have to say my heart was wracked with pity for those sooty lashes, suffering the slings and arrows of outrageous punctuation.  ‘Gazing into the familiar blue eyes of a once-dear friend, Blair was overwhelmed by a rush of aching memories.  Tentatively returning Jonathan’s shy, hopeful smile, Blair was filled with regret for a relationship which had faltered because’…//_

“Because what!” Jack hollered.

Daniel sauntered out of the kitchen.  “It’s not my job to write the story for you, Jack.  Just to point out the most glaring errors.  Which ‘because’ are you referring to?”

Jack found it difficult to specify.  He was completely thrown by the fact Daniel had his hand up a chicken’s butt.  Given Daniel tended to talk with his hands, Jack was definitely having a Pythonesque dead parrot moment.  He was so mesmerised by the chicken swooping gracefully through the air he didn’t even raise a token protest when Daniel turned on his heel and walked away, though he did note Daniel was chuckling again.  The prick had done that on PURPOSE.  HAD to have.  A deliberate diversionary - Hey!  “Whaddya mean, the most glaring errors!”

“Read on,” Daniel advised kindly.

Jack read on.  And on.  He was heartened by the next few pages escaping relatively unscathed.

_//Editorial note.  There is denial and then there is…*Jim*.  From the little I saw on screen, I thought Jim was quite nice to Blair, if a tad over-protective.  Why then is Jim constantly obsessing about hitting Blair to shut  - and shape - him up?  The reiteration of Jim's need for dominance/control over Blair suggests that this relationship is doomed from the start.  How could you trust a friend/partner and supposed lover whose main aim in life is to emasculate you?//_

Jack turned towards the kitchen, eyeing Daniel grimly.  "I hope that's a rhetorical question," he muttered, watching the smooth, confident sweeps of Daniel's huge Sabatier carving knife.

_//Try a little character development.  Have Jim recognise his own behaviour pattern and begin to question why he’s attempting to control and dominate his friend.  What's changed?  Why?  Have Jim *learn* something.  Make him three-dimensional.//_

"You're missing the point, Daniel," Jack called impatiently.  "I'm writing BAD fiction."

“That’s no excuse for writing your fiction badly.”

“Oh.”  Jack prudently refused to ask Daniel to elaborate and turned back to the laptop.

**Jonathan stepped back, startled, as the loft door was wrenched open before he could even knock.  As he gazed up**

_//Gazing UP?  I’ve shrunk.//_

**into the steely blue eyes of Jim Ellison, the man Blair claimed was a true Sentinel, Jonathan realised at last his friend was right.  Ellison had obviously heard his approach, had in fact been waiting for him.**

**“Hi,” he said softly.  “I’m Blair’s friend, Jonathan.”**

**“Friend?” Jim asked coldly.**

**Jonathan saw the man’s nostrils flair delicately, saw his face freeze, and blushed to the roots of his hair.  Ellison could SMELL Blair on Jonathan’s skin!  Oh, God.  Could this be any more awkward?**

**Jim stepped aside and let his hated rival into the loft.  Every sense sang with the urge to beat the shit out of this guy, for daring to partake of his guide, of being freely offered what Blair had refused Jim.  As he coolly waved Jonathan to the table, mechanically offered coffee, Jim was raging against the unfairness of it.  Jonathan was drop-dead gorgeous.  He could have ANYONE.  Why the fuck did he want Blair?  Why did Jonathan get to have the ONLY man Jim wanted?   Wanted?  Jim sighed.  Couldn’t live without was closer to the mark.**

**Jim handed Jonathan a steaming mug of coffee before sinking wearily into the chair opposite.  Jonathan seemed nervous around Jim, nervous enough the silence stretched and his attempts to focus on the coffee afforded Jim ample time to observe.  Jim despaired.  Honed Sentinel senses allowed him to appreciate fully the astonishingly blue eyes, as warm and soft as the summer sky, framed by ludicrously long lashes and perfectly arched brows.  This man’s creamy skin and bone structure were flawless, and the pout, Jesus, it was getting even Jim a little hot under the collar and he was well and truly spoken for.  Blair’s - he even choked on the THOUGHT of the two of them together - Blair's LOVER was totally fucking edible.**

**Jim noticed the fine tremor in the elegant pianist’s hands, stared and was caught by the sadness in those huge, beguiling eyes.  He realised with a shock Jonathan wasn’t some user.  He was just as confused, just as hurt as Blair.  Who had hurt this boy?  Who sent him running here to Cascade, to Blair?**

**Jim stared at the bowed head.  A boy as beautiful, as sweet and shy as Jonathan had to belong to someone.  He had to wonder who.**

_//Belong?  Like a pet?  Jack, really…this is the third time I’ve had to mention the ridiculously exaggerated and idealised physical descriptions of Jonathan.  Actually, the last one was worse, given you disposed of Blair with ‘short and curly’ and moved on to what you sadly consider to be bigger and better things.  Literally so.  Please take this criticism as read, and expunge every reference to Jonathan’s impossible beauty and the oft mentioned ‘woof’ factor, including flawless skin, beguiling sapphire eyes, silken golden brown hair and luscious ass.  Etcetera.  Etcetera.  Etcetera.//_

Jack ground his teeth.  Did Daniel ever look in the damn mirror? He read on for another page or two.  Minor alterations here and there, no biggies.

**Jim was astonished by the surge of protectiveness which rushed through him as the big guy shoved Jonathan roughly against the wall.  This morning, he’d considered Jonathan a rival.  Now – now he was Jim’s lifeline, the only link he had left with Blair.**

**“Cascade PD,” he snarled.  “Let the boy go and step away.  I’ve got grounds for assault right here.”**

_//I’ve not only shrunk, I’m astonishingly youthful.  I’m six feet tall and thirty-four years old.  Get over it.//_

Jack ground his teeth and refused to ‘get over it’ on general principles.  He skipped lightly over the next few paragraphs, because he did look in his mirror and – hey!

_//You – or should I say Mac – seems to have lost a few years and a few pounds, while gaining a few inches and an entirely different hair colour.  A few inches?  Pfffft.  Blair barely reaches your knees and you’re towering over me, just because you think the actor who plays Jim is taller than you are?  I hesitate to belabour this point but…I know!  You could stand on a box!//_

**Jim and Mac shook their heads, disbelieving, as every head in the joint turned towards Blair and Jonathan.  The boys were completely oblivious to the palpable tension rippling through the crowd, the lust in the hungry eyes fixed so avidly on them.  Jim and Mac shared a quick, rueful look and picked up the pace.**

_//I thought we were in a biker bar?  You specifically mentioned Spike and his ‘Hog’.  If this is a gay biker bar, please say so.  This scenario is so unlikely it threw me right out of the narrative.//_

“Note to self: help Daniel Get A Clue,” Jack grumbled.  He couldn’t believe Daniel had never noticed the guys checking him out in the showers.  It had happened so often – and so blatantly – either he or Teal’c would have wound up punching out one of the mutts who wanted to kiss Danny’s ass, so Jack had requested a separate locker room for the flagship team.  General Hammond had never been known to refuse any little thing that might make Daniel's lot at the SGC a happier one, and it had taken Jack a very few minutes and only a couple of references to Daniel's 'sensitivity' to swing the deal.

_//Try for SOME realism.  PLEASE.  And you can pencil in a little talk about irrational sublimated jealousy for later.//_

Oh.  Hmm.  Daniel wasn’t going to like what happened in the bullpen, then.  Jack skipped ahead a few pages.

_//Pfffft!  Make that a LONG talk about your ludicrously exaggerated opinion of my desirability, given that along with your assumption I apparently have every female in the bag already, you seem to think the merest glimpse of my derriere is all that’s required to turn the head of every red blooded male on the planet.  A long, LONG talk.  The avidity of other people’s reaction to Jonathan suggests that your jealousy could well be pathological.  BTW, I’m *glad* your own self-image is so *healthy*.  Don’t think I’ve missed both Blair AND Jim checking out your butt when you think Jonathan isn’t looking.  There are synonyms for ‘taut’ you know.  You should try some of them.//_

Jack scrolled on another ten pages or so, to where Jonathan was admiring – oh.

_//Forget taut.  Try ‘full of it’.//_

He glanced up, saw Daniel chopping what looked like shrubbery, sighed, and reluctantly went back to Spike and the biker bar.  Re-write hell.  Jack worked patiently through the ‘suggestions’, all of which were infuriatingly reasonable and, he admitted reluctantly, right.  He felt guilty that Daniel hadn’t commented on either of Jonathan’s sex scenes with Blair, which kind of made them jump right out from the mêlée of amendments.  Daniel had, however commented on Blair’s sex scene with Jim.  Jack glared at the screen.  Commented wasn’t quite the right word.  Objected violently was closer, though possibly not close enough.

_//*Sonovabitch!*  It did NOT take me FIVE minutes to retrieve the lube from under the bed, and I wouldn’t have BEEN sneezing if you dusted under there!  Come to think of it, the lube and I wouldn’t have been under the bed in the first place if YOU hadn’t… //_

Jack leaned around and scowled at Daniel’s oblivious back.  Daniel was Cooking.  It would take a zat blast to get his attention while he was – Jack craned up – vigorously emasculating a variety of phallic vegetables.  He turned back to the accusing commentary.  Weren’t you supposed to write what you know?  Daniel was what Jack knew.  He’d lied his ass off about taking it up the ass when he was younger, because he’d been blown away by how much Daniel had wanted him and one of them shit scared about doing it was already one too many.  Daniel had wanted Jack, Jack had wanted Daniel to want him and once Daniel and the lube had been retrieved from under the bed, Jack had frankly wanted it all for himself.  If Jack pretending he’d done it before had given Daniel the confidence to do it then…Jack shrugged.  The truth would have gotten Jack tucked up with a mug of hot chocolate and a disappointed Daniel instead of both of them gaining a whole new interest in life.  So Jack had written what he knew.  Big deal.  Jack – and Jim – couldn’t have been more obvious about how good a time they were having.  The hollers of encouragement were not subtle.

Jack strolled into the kitchen, where he leaned up against the workbench and brooded.  The rich smell of roasting chicken was heavy in the air.  Jack sniffed appreciatively and leaned down to peer into the oven.  “Why is the pie that shape?”

“What shape?” Daniel asked distractedly.  He was trying to disguise the presence of eggplant, asparagus AND broccoli florets in the about to be roasted vegetable medley.

“Like a chicken with a crust.”

“Oh.”  Daniel straightened and turned towards Jack, careful to keep himself between Jack and the medley at all times.  “That’s because it’s a chicken with a crust.”

“Not pie?”

“Chicken en croûte.”

“En croûte?”

“In pastry.”

Jack had a feeling sanity was slipping gently away from him.  “Chicken in pastry,”  he reiterated slowly.  Wasn't that the definition of pie?

“That’s correct.  The chicken is coated in some wonderful pâte to keep it moist while the pastry cooks.  I made it with chicken livers, garlic, butter, fresh sage and rosemary, onions, garlic, sherry, juniper berries and cranberries,” Daniel said brightly.  “It’s wonderful.  You’ll love it.”  Daniel glanced hopefully at Jack's brooding face and realised he was alone in that opinion.

“Is it that you can’t learn, or you won’t?” Jack drawled.  He found it almost impossible to fake Daniel out these days, but Daniel WAS a little sensitive about putting the haute into the cuisine.  “Tuna comes in sandwiches, or if you have a death wish, casserole.  It doesn’t come with balsamic vinegar or salad, or with pasta and red wine.  Chicken comes fried or barbecued or in pie.  It doesn’t come with garlic, butter, white wine, cream and mushrooms.  Or sliced wafer thin and fanned out on an antique plate with melon and Marsala wine.  Or its butt en croûte come to that.  And who MAKES their own Chinese food?  That’s why God invented take-out.”  Jack ruthlessly suppressed a grin as Daniel shot him a hurt look up from under those ‘ludicrously long lashes’ as per page six of ‘Primal Impulse’.

The truth was, Daniel had spoiled Jack for any other culinary experience.  Daniel cooked the way he did everything, with passion and commitment.  Jack didn’t even enjoy eating out anymore, except to gloat offensively at the way people stared from him to Daniel and back again, wondering what the hell Daniel saw in Jack to give him that unmistakeable glow of happiness.  Jack wondered too.  He could never decide if Daniel had bad judgement, bad taste or just plain bad luck.  Daniel got Jack, but Jack got DANIEL.  This meant he was cosseted within an inch of his life with, for example, food so spectacular they hadn’t found a restaurant yet Daniel didn’t make look bad.  If Jack wanted a CHEESEBURGER he got expensive, imported Scottish beef minced and cooked to order with a variety of fresh herbs and spices, that nice melty Fontina cheese from the Italian deli, plus a mountain of fries and fresh salad.  He was absolutely ruined for anyone or anything else, and he was loving every minute.

Daniel knew perfectly well Jack was trying to get him to take the bait, get into a fight so Jack could vent over the beta without admitting it.  Daniel wasn’t in the mood to play Jack’s game, but he was in the mood to get Jack to eat up all his vegetables like a good little colonel, so he hung his head and ‘suppressed’ a soft sigh.  “Overkill, huh?” he said sadly.  “I keep forgetting you don’t like the ‘fancy schmancy’ stuff.”  This was certainly what Jack said, though observational evidence suggested Daniel couldn’t cook it quick enough to fill the bottomless pit which passed for Jack’s stomach.  He glanced unhappily at the oven, biting his lip.  “I could make something else with the chicken,” he offered reluctantly, turning back to vegetable medley, “if that’s what you want,” he added wistfully.  He couldn’t push the martyr act too far, or Jack would snap him in the ass.  Just far enough to get Jack to guilt trip and eat up.

“You’ve MADE it now,” Jack complained in a long-suffering voice, sniffing hungrily now Daniel's back was safely turned.  God forbid he should let Daniel get complacent.

“I can try to use more frozen meals,” Daniel offered heroically.  “Or canned goods.”  He punctuated this by half-heartedly sliding the vegetables onto their tray ready to be roasted.  “It’ll save me time,” he added brightly, neatly side-stepping Jack without making eye contact and heading for the oven.  “If you don’t like the food anyway…“ he let it trail off as he slipped the tray onto the free shelf.

“I didn’t say that,” Jack corrected.  “The food isn’t bad, per se.  Just,” he hesitated,  “fancy.  Like vegetables going into the oven.  You boil vegetables.”

“I don’t,” Daniel corrected indignantly.  “I steam.  It’s healthier.”  He picked up the oven gloves and quietly removed the tray of vegetables from the oven.  “But I’ll boil these if that’s what you want.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic, Daniel,” Jack snapped.  “I’ll eat the damn vegetables if that’s what YOU want.”

“Thanks,” Daniel grinned, sliding the tray back into the oven with panache.  “I'm holding you to that.  Did you want anything apart from critiquing the menu?”

Jack folded his arms.  “About the beta,” he enunciated crisply.

“Yes?” Daniel queried gently as he strolled over to fill the sink.  The threat should be enough to shift Jack.  Daniel did the cooking, which he loved, so Jack had to do the cleaning and the table-setting, which Jack hated.  Fair’s unfair.

“Nothing that can’t wait,” Jack said promptly, sidling towards freedom.

Daniel left the water running and grinned at Jack.  “Good.  Then you won’t mind getting this stuff cleaned up for me while I grab a shower and change.”  He strolled off without a backward glance.

Jack swore under his breath and reluctantly started clearing up the mess.  Daniel’s enthusiasm was hard on the pans.  Of all the perils of ‘don’t ask don’t tell’, dishpan hands were one hazard Jack had never considered while he was trying to decide whether pursuing a relationship with Daniel was worth his career.  He dumped everything into the sink and rebelliously left it all ‘to soak’ while he got in a little more editing.  He was regretful about passing up a shower with Daniel, but the only way he would get away with not doing the dishes was Daniel not finding out he was a lazy no-account bum until it was too late to do anything about it.  He did set the table as a way to soften the blow, and to make sure the meal wasn’t pointedly served for one.  Then he plunged right back into the editing, aware it could take some time.

**Blair blinked furiously.**

**“Stop that!” Jonathan hissed.  “He’ll think you’re coming on to him.”**

**“What?” Blair whispered incredulously.**

**“You’re batting your eyes right AT the man.  Be caref…“**

**“QUIET!”  DeWitt snarled, hefting the gun pointedly.  He relaxed when they obeyed him, eyeing them both, smirking.  “Unless you boys want me to come over there and GIVE you something to talk about,” he suggested, licking his thick, fleshy lips.**

**“We’re sorry,” Blair said pacifically.**

**Jonathan ground his teeth.  Blair was STILL batting his eyes.  It was coming off as flirting.  Couldn’t Blair see that?  That asshole DeWitt had gotten high again.  He was wired, a heartbeat away from just marching over here and – that was a point.  If they got DeWitt interested again, he’d have to put the gun down to get a little of the action he was so obviously looking for.  The chains allowed some freedom of movement.  If one of them could distract DeWitt, the other might reach the gun in time. A quick glance to Blair and a gentle nod towards the gun was enough to tell Jonathan his friend understood.  DeWitt seemed equally interested in both of them.  If they both seemed receptive, it might confuse De Witt long enough to give them the opening they needed.  Flushing a little, Jonathan tried batting his eyes too. He licked his lips nervously.**

**DeWitt’s eyes were dragged from Blair’s face.  He smiled slowly, menacingly.**

**“Is the deal still on the table?” Jonathan asked bravely, fighting down a wave of nausea as DeWitt strolled towards him, taut with anticipation, his eyes raking Jonathan’s body.**

**O-kaay.  So not quite EQUALLY interested in both of them, then.**

_//If you have something to say about our encounter with Aris Boch, kindly address it to ME.  I do *not* flirt, not even with you.  I do not bat my eyes.  Occasionally licking my lips is merely a feint to disguise my desperate addiction to cherry lip balm.  Contrary to yet another of your ludicrous obsessions, I did not offer myself up on a plate to Aris Boch, nor was he interested in me sexually in the slightest.  You have got to remember that just because all of these things you allege I do work on YOU, it doesn’t mean they work on everybody, or in point of fact, ANYBODY else._

_BTW, you must change the dialogue here.  General Hammond takes security seriously.  Quite apart from the penal implications of your foray into slashfic, I’m sure the general would be less than thrilled to have your top secret mission reports printed verbatim at ‘852 Prospect: The Sentinel Adult Fiction Archive’ on the world wide web.  In the spirit of generosity, I will admit that your pseudonym ‘flyboy’ would throw him off your scent possibly for several minutes.  So change the dialogue, unless you WANT to share a cell with some desperate ex-Marine called ‘Bubba’ whose assessment of your ‘assets’ tallies with mine…//_

Jack read on, trying to ignore the suspicion that Daniel was in fact going easy on him because of the whole being in love and having to share a bed thing.  He was glad Daniel was going for pithy rather than pissy, because he highly doubted he’d survive a bare-knuckle, no holds barred full-on Jackson beta.

**Jonathan slowly regained consciousness, his vision wavering in and out of focus.  He was alarmed to see a desperate Jim brutally pinning a pale, struggling Blair to the wall.  Jim was clearly beyond feeling any kind of relief at finding Blair safe and more or less unharmed.  The Sentinel’s actions reeked of barely contained violence as he tried to dominate his Guide.  Jonathan thought drearily that possessiveness was the one thing that would drive an irrevocable wedge between his gentle friend and the man he loved.  It had driven Jonathan away from Mac, and he couldn’t bear to see Blair drowning beneath that tidal wave of primitive jealousy and possessive rage.**

**A sharp pain stabbed through Jonathan’s head, the sudden pressure was crushing.  Close to passing out, he fixed his eyes on his warring friends.  As his sight dimmed, Jonathan saw not just the two men, but their spirit animals.  Wolf and jaguar were locked in the same primal struggle for supremacy.**

_//This is all very interesting, but I’m sure I speak for all Sentinel fans everywhere when I say we’re far more interested in hearing what Jim and Blair have to say for themselves than what a semi-conscious Jonathan thinks he sees, especially as the focus is on Jonathan just so YOU can do THIS…//_

**With an anguished cry, Mac dropped to his knees, lifting the limp form of his lover into his arms and hugging him close.  He cradled Jonathan to his chest, kissing the beloved face, so desperately pale, rocking him insistently.  Sobs crowded Mac’s throat but he crushed them down ruthlessly.  He could take a moment, no more.  DeWitt was still out there and he wanted Jonathan.**

**Mac spared a lightning glance to his friends.  Neither Jonathan nor Blair would be safe so long as DeWitt eluded them, and it was Mac’s job to protect them.  Jim was out of it.  The Sentinel needed help only a sensitive Guide could give him, and this Sentinel was pushing his beloved Guide beyond even Blair’s ability to forgive.  What the fuck was wrong with the man?  Couldn’t he see that this Neanderthal act was hurting Blair?  He was making the kid feel like PROPERTY, Jim’s chattel, without a will or mind of his own.**

**Mac laughed, humorlessly.  He called ‘em when he knew ‘em.  After all, it was exactly what he’d done with Jonathan, who’d only ever expected the truth and the right to earn Mac’s trust.  Jonathan had that trust he so longed for, but in return he’d placed his trust in a loveless bastard who couldn’t even admit he loved Jonathan, who trusted him in his heart, and yet whose actions showed over and over he didn’t trust Jonathan at all.  How could he – how could Jim for that matter, explain to these boys the problem wasn’t that they didn’t feel, but that they felt too much.  It was the vulnerability they couldn’t handle, not the love.**

Jack read that through and had to admit he’d been a TAD too open, there.

_//…sappy…//_

Okay.  That too.  He shifted a little uncomfortably and skimmed through to the epilogue.  Daniel was moving around the bedroom, the scent of chicken was tantalising…pretty hot stuff on the menu, whichever way he looked at it.  In fact, he was beginning to get a few primal impulses of his own.

**Mac strode over to the bed where his lover lay sleeping…**

Jack scrolled a little too far and lost his text off-screen.  Then the commentary caught his eye.

_//Jack eased up behind Daniel and kissed his rain-dewed nape…//_

Jack read on, eyes widening.  Daniel’s scenario didn’t offer any graphic suggestions, but Jack had more than enough to know just what it was Daniel wanted…and was offering.  Oh, momma!  Let it rain.  Let it POUR.

Jack frowned, running his hand over the smooth wood of the desk.  He’d better get some of that beeswax stuff too.  Splinters would definitely kill the mood.  He scrolled rapidly back to where he’d left the narrative.

**Blair reached up and cupped Jim’s face with trembling fingers.  Holding Jim’s hungry gaze with his own, Blair reached up and kissed Jim.  Relief crashed through him as Jim gently returned the pressure of his lips.  Such a simple act, and yet Blair of all people knew how hard it was for Jim – for the Sentinel to passively follow where his Guide led.  Jim’s honed senses were a double–edged sword, at once his source of greatest strength and vulnerability.  Blair had realised in the first days of their friendship that the Sentinel’s dependence on the Guide prompted an instinctive and entirely pragmatic urge to protect.  He’d had to go through this whole damnable business with DeWitt to realise he and Jim had crossed the line when they’d each fallen in love with the other without accepting or sharing their feelings.  Jim’s love and desire for Blair had warred with his Sentinel instincts, twisted them until everyone who paid Blair the slightest attention was recognised as a threat to the necessary bond between them, and it had been the Sentinel who had responded.  Not Jim.  Not this man gazing down at him with such naked anxiety.  Jim had fought the Sentinel, had struggled against his primal impulse to possess…and it seemed he had finally won.**

**“I love you,” Blair admitted at last to what had so nearly destroyed them.  “A part of me always has, and always will.”**

**Jim carefully smoothed the hair back from Blair’s brow, his fingers tangling in the mass of still damp silky curls.  He’d never fully appreciated what sensuality was, but whatever the dictionary definition might say, to him sensuality was this. The light herbal fragrance of the shampoo blending with the earthier scent of sweat, arousal – Jim’s fingers tightened involuntarily – and residual fear.  Sensuality was the softness of the strands gliding over his skin, and the way he could trace the path of each curl as Blair’s hair dried.**

_//Hypocrite.  You nagged me relentlessly from the moment I put on that first set of fatigues to get myself a regulation haircut.  You can’t start whining now just because you want something to play with in bed.//_

Jack shifted guiltily on his chair.  Daniel was annoyingly perceptive.  The new ‘do’ definitely got Jack the full impact of nape, the eyes and bone structure.  The hair was still that amazing golden brown.  It was still astonishingly soft and silky.  It still smelled incredible.  It was just – short.  And yeah, the ONLY time that bothered him was when they were in bed and there wasn’t enough of it to curl around his fingers.  Pointing out this was an unconscious habit Jack had fallen into long before he’d even met Daniel wouldn’t help.  Their relationship was crowded enough without bringing Sara into it.

**There were other pleasures too.  Blair’s proffered kiss slammed through ALL Jim’s senses.  He couldn’t imagine what making love with Blair would do to him, if kissing did THIS to him with all his senses dialed down.  Jim leaned in, surrendered, let Blair take him where he needed to be.  He had to trust, had to be willing to follow. Blair would forgive him everything but refusal to take this leap of faith.  Everything else would come to them, if Jim could do this.**

**“I love you too,” Jim said simply.**

_//Sweet.//_

Huh?  Was that a COMPLIMENT?  Daniel was slipping.  Or…maybe he wasn’t.  Maybe it was deliberate.  Maybe he was messing with Jack’s mind.  Sweet?  Sweet.  Did sweet mean sappy?  Jack ran his mind through previous beta comments.  Sappier.

**He was so focused on the light and heat filling Blair’s eyes, the way Blair’s face was melting to softness, he jumped like a scalded cat when the door slammed open.  He and Blair sprang apart and one look at Mac’s desperate face was enough to take them both to his side.**

**“DeWitt has taken Jonathan,” Mac grated.**

**“He was in custody!” Blair stammered, horrified.**

**Jim had to look away from the bleak despair in Mac’s eyes.  It was a look he’d seen all too often in his own.  “DeWitt escaped?” he asked curtly.  Wallowing in sorrow and guilt did Jonathan no good.  He had to focus if he was to find their friend.**

**“You tell me,” Mac said softly.**

**Jim stiffened.  “You still think Williger was in on it?  Hey, I don’t love the Feds myself, but what you’re implying – that Williger is an associate of Dewitt’s – it’s impossible.”**

**“I’m TELLING you Williger is much, much more than that.  He’s DeWitt’s sleeping partner.  He’s the reason DeWitt has always been two steps ahead of us.  How the hell else did DeWitt’s people know where they could take Jonathan?”  Mac faltered for a moment.  “I think they were desperate to stop Jonathan from recognizing Williger.”  Mac glanced at Blair’s rapidly paling face.  “And he isn’t the only witness.”**

**Jim shook his head, disbelieving.  “Williger wants them dead,” he said flatly.  “It protects his anonymity and the case against DeWitt falls apart without Blair and Jonathan’s testimony.  DeWitt would walk.”  Jim turned away abruptly.  “I fucked up royally.  What the hell was I thinking?  We were shaky on the probable cause to start with. I can just see the jury lapping up Detective Ellison’s tale of smelling his lover’s hair from two blocks over,” he snarled.**

_//Point of interest here.  Do you really think viewing one episode was sufficient primary source evidence to make a judgement like that?  Could Jim smell Blair from two blocks over?  It doesn’t seem likely unless he was zoning, totally focused on that one sense, and since he’d need Blair to get him OUT of the zone…you can see where this is going.//_

He could?  Stupid-ass rhetorical questions… Jack scrolled down to get the rest.

/ _/You were obviously dying to get to the action scene so you sacrificed characterisation, consistent plotting and indeed logic to expedience and the kicking of a variety of criminal asses.  Try confirming your facts.  If your supposition about Jim’s senses is correct and you still want to get the boys out of captivity in a paragraph or two because, God forbid, Jim and Mac should actually TALK and learn something about themselves instead of just getting down to kicking the aforementioned criminal asses, go ahead.  Take the easy way out._

_I will admit to a personal agenda here.  I know I speak for Jonathan, Blair and myself when I say we’d really much rather have escaped on our own, especially as you lingered gratuitously on Jonathan’s ordeal at DeWitt’s hands for several pages, including post-traumatic flashbacks.  Jim and Mac might not be quite so complacent about we ‘boys’ if we’d done a little ass kicking of our own while you were still in the truck arguing about who got to go in the door first and which of you has the biggest ‘gun’.//_

Jack ground his teeth.  Next time, he was getting his beta reader from the demographic.  He needed someone with an open mind, someone receptive.  And appreciative.  Someone who couldn’t second guess his motivations for every goddamn punctuation mark, and who wouldn’t make him sleep on the couch if he got pissy and called them on it.

Daniel sauntered out of his bedroom, clean, cool and changed.  He headed for the kitchen, not missing the way Jack was vindictively stabbing at the keys.  Obviously, Jack’s ego/keyboard interface was breaking down.  The flagrantly turned back suggested further beta input would not be welcomed at this point.  The conversation at dinner was likely to be…spirited.

Daniel uncorked the wine and set it to breathe on the table.  Wine was another innovation Jack vigorously protested against and thoroughly enjoyed.  Daniel was having to branch out in order to provoke a response.  Orange juice, Kool Aid and, on one memorable occasion, milk had all yielded some really creative tirades from Jack.  Daniel had to grin at that particular memory.  Maybe he was a little sappy too, but he didn't want Jack thinking the thrill had gone already. Tirades led to spectacular make-up sex, which Jack REALLY enjoyed.

Speaking of tirades…Daniel was fond of spinach.  Jack…wasn’t.  So spinach it was.  It took only a few minutes to wash and chop the leaves, shake away the excess water and set the first layer into the pan.  After adding the second layer of leaves to cook down, Daniel headed over to the oven and lifted out the chicken.  The pastry was crisp and golden, and when Daniel carved into the chicken, the meat was moist.  Perfect.  The vegetables were a tad al dente, which was how Jack actually liked them, no matter what he said.  Jack complained whether they were ‘mushy’ or ‘you COOKED these or not?’, but he only left them when they were ‘mushy’.  This was another area Daniel was having to branch out in search of make-up sex.  He was rapidly reaching the stage where the only thing left to do was to serve up a salad garnished with summer fruits and edible flowers for Jack to take as his contribution to the next post-hockey barbecue over at Ferretti’s place.  Daniel paused, considering his 'serve with salad' options.  No, he thought regretfully.  Better not.  Quiche was probably pushing it.

“Daniel?”

“Hmm?”  Daniel added another layer of spinach leaves as Jack spooned up behind him and just checked to see if his butt was still in full working order.  A little kneading and a definite murmur of appreciation suggested this was in fact the case, along with a soupçon of ‘pride of ownership’.  Daniel made a mental note to retaliate when he had a minute.  That crack about clogged arteries in the beta edit wasn’t nearly enough.  Jack had focused most of the local Cascade colour on Wonderburger, which was a joke, because Jack himself would only have hand-cooked burgers from Gunther Toody’s, Betty Boop’s or his venue of choice, Chez Jackson.  Jack’s experience of franchised fast food outlets was severely limited, mostly because he was the type who wanted to pick his own cow.  In fact, Jack’s expressed loathing of all things English had as much to do with the Scottish beef Daniel used for burgers as with the repeated viewings of Braveheart.

“Whatchadoin?”

“Wilting spinach,” Daniel said brightly.  “And I’ll kill you where you stand if you so much as mention Popeye.”

* * *

Daniel curled up in bed beside Jack, nudging at his back until he grumbled and moved over.  This had the usual effect.  Jack drowsily rolled over to face him, and Daniel wound up in one of Jack's patented full body hugs.  It was only a matter of time before one heavy hand curved possessively over his butt, and the other slid up into his hair.  Jack was a creature of habit; he was comforted by familiarity.  Daniel didn't have any problem with indulging this need.  He understood perfectly the stresses of Jack's job, the sheer effort of will it took to concentrate, to stay alert.  Their lives depended on it.

Daniel found Jack's assumption of denseness intensely amusing.  Jack thought about EVERYTHING, all day, every day.  When he came home, he didn't want to think, didn’t want to threat assess.  For Jack to relax, to let go of that perpetual knot of tension, things had to be…familiar.  The rigid neatness of Jack's home, the absence of clutter even in the bedroom, helped Jack to leave the colonel at the door.   Everything had a place, everything was in its place, which meant Jack didn't have to think about it at all.

Daniel tried hard to be supportive of this unexpressed need.  He was careful what he took over to Jack's place, what he kept there.  Enough to reassure Jack his house was home too, not so much it became clutter, an irritant Jack had to be aware of, had to think about.  Daniel chose things carefully, to fit.  There was one Etruscan vase Jack had admired, the only artefact Daniel possessed Jack would voluntarily pick up and handle.  The vase now had pride of place on Jack's bureau.  All it had taken was some whining about lack of space at his loft, then taking it pointedly over to Jack’s house, moving Jack's rocket from it's accustomed place on the low, dividing wall between dining and living rooms, and setting the vase there instead.   Then Daniel had simply waited until the grumbling died down, and Jack had taken to eyeing the vase speculatively, trying to see where it fit.  Daniel went out to grocery shop and when he came back the rocket was back on the wall and the vase was on the bureau in the bedroom.  He was happy, and more importantly, Jack was happy.  There probably were easier ways to give the man you loved a present that meant something, but Daniel had yet to find one.  Jack just wasn't the man for surprises.

Daniel snuggled closer, settling his head on Jack's shoulder, smiling as the expected sigh of pleasure snuffed into his hair.  This was familiar to Jack now, something he needed.  Daniel kissed Jack's shoulder gently.  Something they both needed.  They had to be together even when they were too tired for sex.  Sharing a bed and just sleeping together was wonderfully indulgent, proof the urgency and uncertainty which had dogged their early days together was truly past.  Just being together, sleeping, talking, holding one another…it all spoke of permanence to Daniel.  Commitment.  The sex was wonderful, Jack was wonderful, but it was just one part of their deepening connection.

Daniel hugged Jack close, musing on their life together.  Work went on just as it always did.  They still argued, still disagreed loud and long without hesitation, each knowing that at the end of the day, they'd still be going home together.  There was nothing at work for anyone to see, but at home everything was different.  Jack coaxed Daniel into confiding what he would normally keep to himself.  Daniel coaxed Jack into letting his guard down.  His methods were a little unusual, but they worked.  Flying to Denver to spend the whole day lazing on a blanket in Cook Park, not even talking much, just soaking up the sun, the peace, the freedom and the incongruous privacy of being so obviously together in a public space where no one knew them.  That was an indulgence too, to travel all that way and not see a single tourist sight, not spend a single dollar that wasn't on ice cream, hot dogs or sodas.  Travelling to another city to do things they could have done in their own back yard.  Literally.  Jack had eventually stopped the half-hearted whining about his yard and just…basked.  Daniel had curled up beside him with a book he hadn't read, just thoroughly enjoyed himself Jack-watching, gloating over Jack so open, unguarded, at peace.

Those feelings had lasted out the trip home, in fact they were still in evidence on their next mission, when they'd accompanied Master Bra'tac to Kheb with high hopes of retrieving the Harsesis child.  The resolution was not what Daniel had hoped, not what he had chosen, but Sha'uri's child was safe with Oma Desala, a promise had been kept, and Daniel treasured up the trust Jack had placed in him.  Jack lowering his weapon like that, even with the prompting from Bra'tac - and Teal'c's capitulation - with Apophis' First Prime right in front of him and all their lives on the line, that was a gift of trust Daniel fully appreciated, because it was Jack's command and in the end could only be Jack's decision alone.  Daniel had known Jack was fighting every instinct he had to protect, to fight, knew it had almost killed him to surrender up even the illusion of control in that situation, but he had done precisely that.  He'd expected to die, as had Sam, but still he had found it within himself to put his faith in Daniel.

Despite the inherent difficulties of living together without being able to do it openly, without fear of censure or serious consequences for Jack's career, moments like that, where he and Jack connected, were worth the price.  Any price, he thought at times.

"Knock it off," Jack griped.  "Trying to sleep, here, and the noise of all those mental gears grinding is keeping me awake."

Daniel grinned, wriggling until he was comfortably stretched out on top of Jack. He leaned down and licked a slow trail up Jack's arching throat, making him shiver, lighting that dangerous glitter in his eyes, a look Daniel knew well.  Jack was awake, very definitely awake.

"So-o," Jack prompted, sliding his hands down to cup Daniel's butt and pull him closer.  He parted this thighs encouragingly, wrapping his leg around Daniel, lazily massaging his toes the length of Daniel's calf.

"So-o," Daniel answered solemnly.  "I was just thinking that we were worth the effort we put into this relationship."

Jack groaned theatrically as he slid his hands up into Daniel's hair and mussed.  Daniel hated tufts.  Jack thought they were cute, and Daniel had used up his quota of indulgence, springing an ambush like this on Jack, so tufts it was.  "My instinct for danger rarely fails me," Jack said dryly.  "You KNOW you're not supposed to spring the meaning of life stuff on me when I'm barely conscious.  I need a couple of days notice and a couple of stiff drinks FIRST."

"I prefer a spontaneous, honest response."

"I'm willing to share the spontaneous, honest response I usually rigorously suppress when we have to get into this stuff," Jack offered generously, "but the neighbours will probably call the cops."  He reached up and nibbled gently on Daniel's earlobe, making Daniel shiver in return.  "What with the girlie screams and all."

"Prick," Daniel said fondly, arching his neck in turn to allow Jack's questing lips better access.  His throat was apparently just one big erogenous zone.  "Do you think we're worth it?" he asked shyly, toying with Jack's chest hair.

"Not at any time around four am, no," Jack said promptly.  He grinned wolfishly at Daniel's hurt, reproachful look.  "I didn't realise when I signed up for this I was taking on you AND The Sinuses." Or the all-in wrestling matches on nights The Sinuses weren’t an issue, but concussion was.

Daniel scowled.  "You snore!" he accused.

"Snoring is NOTHING," Jack amended crisply.  "That way you have of breathing in, and HOLDING it, scares the shit out of me on a nightly basis.  Remember that cold you had?"

Daniel nodded, brightening.  Jack had kissed him awake and…

"CPR," Jack admitted gloomily.  "And I caught the cold," he added bitterly.

"CPR?" Daniel asked incredulously.

"Just…checking," Jack muttered defensively.  "After FIVE hours biting my nails wondering if every breath was your last."  He was aware Daniel was starting to lose his tender, receptive mood, mostly because Daniel's snuggling, boneless sprawl on top of him was suddenly all corners and sharp edges.  "Oof!"

"Sorry," Daniel snapped as the elbow-assisted air whooshed out of Jack's lungs.

"You," Jack wheezed, "are SO," he gasped, "NOT sorry."

"No," Daniel admitted cheerfully.  "I'm not.  But YOU will be."

"Promises," Jack whispered huskily, stretching luxuriously, arching his back and lifting them both from the bed.  "Too subtle for you?" he prompted, thrusting up against Daniel as the familiar ache of need coiled in his gut.

"Subtlety is not your strong suit," Daniel said dryly.  "Pushy, yes, subtle, no."  He rocked deeply against Jack, gloating over the hiss of pleasure as two rapidly swelling dicks collided.  "So much for foreplay."

"It's your fault," Jack accused, "for being so damn HOT.  Do me, Danny.  Do me right now."  He reached up and bit at Daniel's jawline, throat, shoulders.  "Now, dammit."

"SO-O romantic," Daniel gushed.  "And stop quoting your own dialogue.  As subliminal suggestions go, it sucks.  Nothing will induce me to try out what you detailed so graphically on page eleven.  We have to EAT off that table."  Since he punctuated this by a determined effort to get up, he wasn't in the least surprised to find a desperate man putting every scrap of combat training to good use in tumbling him onto his back and pinning him flat to the bed.  Pushy.  Jack was DAMNED pushy.  "Stop the sex, I want to get off," Daniel murmured provocatively, batting his eyes at Jack. Jack growled deep in his throat and rocked insistently, jolting into Daniel.  "It's up to you, Jack, but a sixty second time out now gets me oiled, slippery and pliant not very much later."

The world tilted crazily and Daniel found himself slipping off the edge of the bed and stumbling down the steps into his bedroom, Jack's foot firmly applied to his behind.

"You're on the clock," Jack said silkily.  "Fifty seven seconds and counting.  If you're late, expect tickling with extreme prejudice.  Fifty three seconds and COUNTING."

Daniel broke into a dead run for the bathroom and the apricot oil.  They'd discovered together that skin on skin was WAY more fun when you took friction out of the equation.  Daniel darted in through the bathroom door, wrenched the cabinet open, snatched the oil and raced back to Jack, waving the bottle in triumph.

"Ten - nine - eight - "

Jack spotted him, snarling.

"Sevensixfivefourthreetwooneyou'reOUT!" Jack hooted in triumph as Daniel loped up the steps to the bed.

"Cheat," Daniel sneered.  "What happened to one Mississippi, two Mississippi?"

"Carter's always telling us time is relative.  Relativity speaking, it passes more quickly the closer you get to orgasm," Jack lectured him sententiously.

"That almost sounds plausible," Daniel marvelled.

"Of course, WAY over at the OTHER end of the scale, you have one of Carter's briefings ABOUT shit like relativity, which seem to go on until hell freezes over, even though minute for minute, both events take roughly the same amount of chronological time."

Daniel blushed a little.  They only had two approaches to sex, depending on the mood and how long since they'd last got any.  Little and often and all over the damn place, usually starting against a vigorously slammed front door, or the kind where they made it to the bed but didn’t surface for about a week and a half.  Quality remained consistent regardless of actual quantity or delivery method.  "I love it when you get scientific," he admitted, licking his lips.  Jack's gaze immediately focused and then glazed right over.  Definitely time to get slippery.  Daniel pounced.

Jack burst out laughing when a hundred and seventy pounds of naked, growling archaeologist slammed into him and pinned him flat.  There was a brief struggle over the oil bottle, which Jack won by a sneak attack on the hot spot below Daniel's ribs just as Daniel got the top off.  The fountain of oil which erupted as Daniel howled and curled into a quaking, defensive ball liberally coated both of them, and sadly, it looked like another tastefully co-ordinated bedding set was now beyond the reach of even the deepest of deep down cleans.

"Oops," Jack said innocently as Daniel glared at him.  Jack glared back.  Let the games - begin.  He heaved up and bucked Daniel clear, following through with a lightning strike under Daniel's arms which had Daniel writhing hysterically and roaring with outraged laughter as he fought desperately to peel Jack's torturing hands away.

"STOP!" Daniel howled when he couldn't take it any more.   "Bastard."

"I love you too.  That's one," Jack gloated, stretching out to claim his spoils.  He cupped Daniel's sullen face, stilled it and lowered his head slowly and deliberately to take his kiss.

Daniel parted his lips obediently and passively allowed Jack to kiss him, refusing to return the insistent pressure.  He just opened wide like a bad boy and bided his time.  Jack's tongue was pulsing powerfully against his, jabbing deep into his throat, groans of appreciation intensifying.  Perr-fect.  Daniel bit down, not hard enough to hurt, just to hold.  He went for offensively gloating body language as Jack worked out scissors cut paper and surrendered, shooting Daniel killing looks.  Daniel made quite the production job of freeing him.

“Cat got your tongue?” Daniel murmured provocatively as Jack sulked at him.  "That's even," he announced crisply.

"Best of three?" Jack hissed menacingly.

Daniel made to sit up but Jack grabbed his wrists and slammed him into the mattress, throwing his whole weight down as Daniel gasped in a deep breath and held it.  He held it long enough for Jack's eyes to widen, for Jack's weight to shift urgently, then he let it out explosively and surged up, ramming into his shoulder into Jack's, knocking him back just far enough for Daniel to get his hands between them and shove hard at Jack's chest.  Then it was Daniel's turn to grab Jack's wrists and pound him into the mattress.  He glared down into wide, innocent eyes and a prim mouth.

"How come you always end up exactly where you want to be?" Daniel snapped.

"Superior intelligence," Jack said simply.

Daniel couldn’t disagree, especially when Jack gave him that intense look, the look that meant…"I'll grab the lube," he said softly.

"I'm oiled, slippery and pliant," Jack grinned wickedly.  "You got all you need right here."

"Lube," Daniel said firmly.  He stretched up and delved under the pillow.

"How come YOU always end up exactly where YOU want to be?" Jack parroted, eyeing the lube.

"I'm a horny bastard," Daniel grinned.

"All greased up and no one to blow?" Jack teased, lifting his butt so Daniel could slip a pillow beneath him.

"Are you sure, Jack?" Daniel asked the ritual question as he scooted eagerly down Jack's body to the Promised Land.

"One finger, two fingers, three fingers - MORE," Jack growled as Daniel's cool, probing finger centred itself and slid slowly inside.  He groaned and pushed down encouragingly as Daniel thrust carefully, stretching him gently.  "Go easy there, big guy," he warned lazily.  "You even wave at my happy button and I'll go off like a rocket."

Daniel signified his complete understanding of this simple instruction by stroking his finger firmly against Jack's prostate as he first sensuously licked the head of Jack's throbbing dick, then swallowed him to the root.  Jack howled in outraged, ecstatic shock.  Daniel grinned.  No matter how many times he proved conclusively that Jack was the little red engine of come, Jack was just as insistent once a night was six times a week more than his aged and infirm libido could handle.  Jack’s record was currently something like 0 for 168, about to become 169.

Daniel was in dire straits himself, he wanted Jack too much to make this last, so he'd just have to settle for hot, hard and fast, and for blowing the top of Jack's head clean off in the rush to make it 170.  He sucked powerfully, hearing Jack's breath quicken and harshen, feeling the tremors shooting through Jack as he fought to keep his hips still.  Uh uh.  Daniel began to withdraw, suckling gently all the way, Jack arching his hips involuntarily, groaning in disappointment.  Daniel swallowed Jack deeply again.

Jack got it.  Open house.  He rocked his hips gently in and out of Daniel's willing mouth, moaning desperately as Daniel's finger mirrored his own thrusts, massaging over his prostate again and again.  His heart was beating so hard he felt almost faint.  The pleasure wasn't coiling low and sweet, it was stabbing clear through him, pinwheeling before his eyes as waves of giddiness rocked his world and tossed him over the edge into always shattering climax.

Jack was struggling back from his body’s conviction he'd just been pounded flat, only dimly aware of Daniel's cautious upgrade to two fingers stroking.  Opening his eyes was beyond him at this point, but he summoned enough energy to croak out a head's up.  Then he had to croak it more emphatically as Daniel hushed him soothingly and went right on with his well-oiled preparation, preparation, preparation routine.  "Waste o' time.  I'm ready, Danny, I swear, I couldn't BE more ready.  The store is SO open, we’re talking blowout here."

"Jack," Daniel began dubiously.  No WAY was he going to risk hurting Jack, of pushing before Jack was physically ready.  No way.

"If I was any more relaxed I’d be dead.  Fuck me already," Jack ordered.  "And don’t worry about the screaming," he drawled lasciviously, licking his lips.  He smirked as Daniel checked out the store, sighing acceptance as his weight shifted, then gentle hands urged Jack’s thighs apart, lifted them.  Jack obligingly hooked his ankles high around Daniel's back and pillowed his arms luxuriously behind his head.

If anyone had told him a month or so ago he would not only tolerate but totally get off on being fucked, he'd have laughed in their face.  Possibly after smacking it.  Who knew?  It was still too much effort to open his eyes and watch Daniel easing into his body, but by God he could feel every twitch and thrust of Daniel's straining dick.  Hell, he'd swear he could feel the blood pulsing.  Daniel's caution always made for an agonising wait until he was securely in, then he could rock sweetly to the heart of Jack.  Which was when the fun REALLY started.

"Jack," Daniel coaxed when Jack gave every sign of being ready to fall asleep, snuggling back into the pillows and stretching like a cat basking in the sun, perfectly at his ease.

"You want me, come get me."  Jack wallowed in the solid weight and reality of Daniel, buried the hilt inside him, Jack stretching to fit Daniel, just as he'd always done, in every way imaginable.  "Mmmmmm…"

"Prick."

"And then some," Jack murmured complacently as Daniel's supple hips rocked against his ass, angling the long, leisurely strokes deep inside to brush over his prostate.  "Oh, yeeeaaahhh," he groaned, arching up into each tender thrust.  He tightened his thighs around the strong, slender waist and now the edge was off a tad, took pity on Daniel's desire to kiss him.

Daniel leaned in as Jack strained up and their lips finally locked in a deep, passionate kiss, biting at lips and questing tongues.  He was awed by the naked pleasure on Jack's face, the unmistakeably smug satisfaction as they loved.  He never had any doubt this was just as pleasurable for Jack as it was for him.  And it was pleasurable, intensely so.  Daniel loved the unguarded heat in Jack's eyes, the aggression in his kiss, the moans of appreciation and pleasure.  Daniel was aware of Jack stretched tight around him, every glide and thrust wrapped in tight in Jack's silky heat…and trust.  This was total surrender on Jack’s part, a surrender of control of his body to Daniel and to pure sensation.  Daniel wanted to be buried inside him forever.

Jack set an easy pace, pushing back against the slow, powerful thrusts jolting waves of incredible sensation through him almost continuously.  Daniel was always gentle, always unhurried, but his very gentleness gave Jack a pleasure so intense it was almost pain.  No small part of that was seeing Daniel’s face with all the walls down, glimpsing the fierce, protective joy of his love for Jack.  At these times, Jack had no doubt he made Daniel happy, that he was good for Daniel, and all he could do was open himself to everything Daniel felt for him, try to show what he felt in return.  And REALLY try not to scream the place down because Daniel was so goddamn GOOD at this.  “O-oh, Go-o-o-d,” Jack whimpered, writhing beneath the relentless, loving onslaught.  “DANNY.”  He strained up for another greedy kiss, almost swallowing Daniel’s tongue in his desperate quest for MORE.

Daniel was left wheezing desperately as Jack tried to suck his lungs out, grinding his lips against Daniel’s just as he was grinding against Daniel’s hips.  Pushy.  Never satisfied.  Never.  Daniel tilted his hips, angling for and striking Jack’s sweet spot, felt Jack spasm and collapse boneless on the bed, shaking and cursing Daniel.  And wanting more.  Of course.  Daniel gave him more, thrusting deeper, harder, driving into him, jolting Jack’s body beneath him.

Jack threw his arms above his head and braced against the headboard, shoving down hard to meet Daniel, howling and cursing as Daniel angled for and struck that sweet spot again and again.

It was too rough, too perfect, they couldn’t last.  Daniel’s muscles were burning, his breathing labouring as his thrusts shortened to quick, almost harsh jabs, then he felt that familiar tightening and his back arched, driving him deep inside as Jack clenched his muscles around him; the sudden shock slammed through his body and he came hard.  “Jaa-aack!” he cried as Jack, grimacing wildly, tensed beneath him and hot stickiness splashed his stomach.  The incredible contractions milked Daniel’s orgasm until he was dry, left him stunned and shaking as always.  He dragged in a deep, shaky breath and gently withdrew.  “Love you,” he whispered.

“Love you too, kid,” Jack whispered back.  When Daniel collapsed, Jack was there to catch him, to stroke soothing hands down his heaving sides and hug him close.  “Yes, I think we’re worth it.  Whatever it takes,” he admitted quietly.


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slash: Jack and Daniel involved in a loving and committed relationship, which usually involves sex.  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Category: Established Relationship. Humour. Romance.  
> Season/Spoilers: Seasons 3 and 4. Events to Small Victories.  
> Synopsis: Jack does it better than Jim.  
> Warnings: None.

“I’ve finished strapping Captain Noble’s ankle, Doctor.”

“Thank you.  I’d like you and Laura to complete the equipment inventory,” Janet smiled at the nurse hovering in the doorway.  Sue’s face fell a little but she trotted off with alacrity.  Janet hid a grin.  Daniel’s presence on the Infirmary’s Post-Op Care list was allowing her to ruthlessly exploit the cut-throat competition to soothe his post-operatively fevered brow.  Sometimes the duty roster was all the edge she needed.

Janet returned her attention to the pc.  She didn’t feel so much as a pang of guilt.  There wasn’t one single other practical thing she could be doing for her patients or to her staff, and this was technically her lunch break, even if it was almost sixteen hundred hours.

It felt wickedly indulgent to be checking out the latest addition to the story archives at work, but given the government was too cheap to implement monitoring software and Cassie was never too tired to sneak up and check out what Janet was checking out on the pc at home, pursuing one of her favourite pastimes and spending time with her favourite guys was WAY easier on the nerves here on base.  Well, her only guys.  She was completely faithful to Jim and Blair, unlike Sam, the SGC's resident slashslut.

Janet clicked on 'What's new' and found only half a dozen new stories.  She hadn't had time to check the archives out for over a week, what with Daniel putting up his usual fight against rest and recuperation.  The appendectomy was healing well, but not well enough for the way Daniel was pushing himself.  Not that she really blamed him, despite what she'd just hollered at him.  She was just as worried about the missing members of SG-1 as Daniel was.

Janet scanned the story summaries and sighed.  Four deathfics and a non-consensual.  No thanks.  Like she wasn't depressed enough?  There was a glut of deathfics every single time Sentinel Too aired in syndication hell, and everyone else got too depressed to post, hence only six new stories.  So she was stuck with a choice of one, posted this morning.  Hurt/comfort was good, angst was good, drama was good.  Also humour, romance and action/adventure, though one rarely found them all in the same story.  Janet grinned, scenting fresh meat.  A new kid on the block, and one who was either nervous or full of it.  Flyboy, huh?

Taking a bite of her 'gimme all you got' sandwich, perennial staple of those who hit the lunch counter in the commissary two hours after lunch was over, Janet clicked on the ludicrously entitled 'Primal Impulse'.  She was game for a laugh.

 

* * *

"You what?" Jack snapped.

"I posted the story for you," Daniel explained patiently for the fourth time.  "Yesterday."

"I was only gone for nine days!  You couldn't wait until I got BACK before you succumbed to the irresistible urge to OUT me?"  Jack stalked out of Daniel's kitchen and wished for the thousandth time Daniel had the kind of furniture you could fling yourself into.  Edging your butt cautiously down onto something older than you were tended to blunt that necessary cutting edge during an argument.

"I did exactly what you asked me to do, Jack, which was to post the story for you when you least expected it so I could check out the feedback and lie if it was bad news," Daniel informed his fuming lover serenely.

"Oh."  Jack shifted uncomfortably in the seat, which he hoped Daniel chalked up to how uncomfortable the seat was, not Jack.  Er…just how did he go about asking about the news, good OR bad, without coming off as a spineless wuss?

"You have some LOCs," Daniel said cheerfully.  "You should check them out.  And just remember, I only posted the story yesterday, so don't expect too much in the way of feedback yet."

"What's an LOC?"

"Letter of comment, apparently."

Jack was sidling over to the laptop.  "Good comments or bad comments?" he asked before he could stop himself.  Hardly any comments from the sound of things, he thought gloomily.  Two responses?  Jeez, he'd only spent most of his spare time for the last MONTH on this story.  Would it kill the demographic to take two minutes from their busy schedule to tell him it 'rooled' or it 'sucked'?  Maybe five minutes to tell him WHY it rooled?  Jack powered up the laptop.  He couldn’t believe a stupid thing like this was making him nervous.

"Constructive," Daniel said judiciously.  "I only checked the first two responses, Jack.  After that I was hauled off to the Infirmary as usual to be poked, prodded, interrogated and harangued by Janet, then I went to help with setting up the gate, and I was exhausted so Janet…um…"  Janet had put him to bed.  Quite forcefully.  He'd expected she'd still be complaining about his complete lack of judgement when he'd arrived in the Infirmary this morning for the daily post-op torture session, but if anything, Janet had been a little…well, giddy, until she'd started to examine him.  "At which point you came back and stank out the place…cleared out my sinuses wonderfully, by the way, thanks for that."  Daniel grinned.  "Followed by the debriefing…then Thor…and the Replicators…the submarine."  Daniel sobered abruptly, but made the push and returned the quick, warm smile Jack flashed at him.  "AND this whole thing since we got home of you checking out my appendectomy scar."  Daniel rallied, grinning whimsically.  "I refuse to apologise for not checking with Janet if it was okay to have my sex with my boyfriend yet.  Maybe you should just call her and ask."

He wished he had checked with Janet.  It was raining out, the kind of soft rain he'd been thinking about for a while.  Jack had never mentioned the hint he'd thrown out in the beta comments, but Daniel had been hoping…the appendicitis had sidelined them, and maybe it was too soon after he'd blown the submarine, thinking he'd killed Jack, and Teal'c, killed the best thing that had ever happened to him…Daniel sighed.  Maybe they were better off sticking with the fan fiction just now.  They were both still a little…raw.  He headed off to the bathroom to wash up and give Jack a little privacy with his demographic.

Jack sighed.  Constructive sounded like 'it sucked and this is why' to him.  He was dividing his attention between the laptop and Daniel, who was being agonisingly cheerful in a vain attempt to disguise the fact he was swamped with guilt for what Jack suspected Daniel was thinking of as attempted murder.  Sooner, or knowing Daniel, later, they were going to have to talk about it.  In the meantime, maybe a little reality bite was what they both needed to remind them they were both very much still here.  There probably wasn't anything that bit more than constructive feedback.

When he finally got Yahoo open, Jack was slightly taken aback to see he had fifty-seven messages in his flyboy inbox.  They couldn’t all hate it, could they?  Law of averages and all…Jack felt a little more optimistic until he saw the two greyed out entries at the top of his waiting emails.  Shooting the shit out of a horde of technobugs was one thing, but deliberately reading something you knew was constructive was apparently quite another, even for a Special Ops colonel.  He spinelessly clicked on the first message Daniel hadn't read.

 *******   
Date:        Thursday, 28 Sep 2000 11:11:11 (MDT)   
From:        gunsnroses@femail.com   
Subject:    Primal Impulse   
To:           flyboy_fanfic@yahoo.com

Your story sucked.

G.   
*******

Maybe constructive wasn't soo bad…Jack glanced at the first constructive email.

"Jesus, Danny, what time were you up?" Jack called, exasperated.  "You've been backsliding again."

Daniel stuck his head out the bathroom.  "Nothing to keep me in bed," he leered hopefully.

Jack leered right back.  "I'll see what I can do by way of an alarm call," he drawled lasciviously.

"It's a date," Daniel agreed.

Jack turned back to his feedback.

 *******   
Date:        Thursday, 28 Sep 2000 05:11:11 (MDT)   
From:        anthropuppy@fsmail.net   
Subject:    Primal Impulse   
To:           flyboy_fanfic@yahoo.com

This made for a very entertaining read despite your over-reliance on OMCs, of whom I found Mac to be particularly intrusive.  I sensed that you had read more fanfic than you had seen episodes, since you left no cliché unturned and incorporated every fanon myth there is about both characters.  FYI, Blair is NOT prone to crying at the drop of a hat.  When you have more familiarity with the characters, I'm sure you'll be able to avoid falling into the trap of using OMCs to drive the narrative forward.  It's allowable in this instance, given your apparent inexperience, but I saw enough potential here to be disappointed if your next story is similarly indulgent.  You had flashes of treating Blair like a grown up, and I saw clear instances where you made the effort to avoid the more obvious 'wuss and warrior' clichéd comparisons.  More of that please.

Apart from the over-reliance on your OMCs, the plot was interesting.  Your action scenes were VERY convincing, in fact I could SEE the action playing out like a movie in my mind.  Excellent!

Hmm.  Is your S.O. still talking to you?  It's never a good idea to wax lyrical about the attributes of the guy you're sleeping with in a fanfic, especially with the embarrassment of riches you seem to be enjoying to the full!  Not if you want to keep ON enjoying them…

This was a good first effort, and I'll certainly be on the lookout for more stories from you.  Well done.

Lucy.

*******

That wasn't TOO bad.  Annoyingly like all the stuff Daniel had carped about, but still…Jack took fresh heart and dipped into the list further down, wondering what the hell an anthropuppy was.

 *******   
Date:       Thursday, 28 Sep 2000 11:36:03 (EDT)   
From:       jimnblair4ever@bite_me.com   
Subject:   Primal Impulse   
To:          flyboy_fanfic@yahoo.com

Hey:

I don't usually read stories that have OMCs in 'em ya know, but I'm soooooo in luv with Jonathan. <sigh> He's just the coolest, way 2 good for Mac.  In fact, he should just *leave* that loser.  Wow, u know what would be *really* cool? <giggle> Threesome! <eg!> Jim, Blair and Jonathan!  Yeah, that would rock. <LoL> Maybe u could kill Mac off and move Jonathan into the loft with the guys and they could like, help him get over his grief? <vbeg> That would be excellent!!!! <snicker>

Are u planning on a seaquel?  Tell me there's going to be a seaquel!  Bring Jonathan back, nyway. <LOL> This is yr fisrt story?  Y're going to be riting more, rite? <g> Have u ritten for any other fandms?

Oh yeh b4 I 4get, can I have yr story?  I've got this litle site for my own fic - I've ritten a couple stories, ok I guess <shrugs> some ppl like 'em, but I'd like to have a few more. <g> It'd be *cool* if y'd let me put yrs up. <LOL>  If u wanna look at my stie and let me know....

http://www.dreamboats.com/droolfic_heaven

Hoping to hear from u.....

Mitzi

*******

Loser?  LOSER!  Jack snarled.  MITZI should get out more!  This was what he got for being disciplined in writing the kind of flawed, multi-faceted character who COMPLETELY subverted the Mary Sue tendencies of most OMCs, NEVER intruding and ALWAYS driving the action forward whilst ADDING richness and depth to the reader's understanding of the unfolding relationship dynamic between Jim and Blair.  And how seriously could he take the opinions of someone who had a website called 'Droolfic heaven', anyway?

Pathological jealousy, huh?  EXACTLY as pathological as Daniel's naïveté.  Jack glared at the screen.  Shit, even the demographic wanted Daniel.

Trash time!

 *******   
Date:       Thursday, 28 Sep 2000 14:42:33 (MDT)   
From:       blairbabe@lake.ollusa.edu   
Subject:   Primal Impulse   
To:          flyboy_fanfic@yahoo.com

You have NO idea about the dynamics of male/male relationships and NO understanding of the special relationship between these two guys!  NO WAY would Blair bite Jim's ass let alone…THAT.  I'm horrified.

AND it couldn't be MORE obvious that you've never even MET a real soldier if you think they'd just roll over and stick their ass in the air for the first guy who TOLD them to!

Get a clue!  Or…I know!  Try watching the SHOW…Jim takes care of Blair, that's how it's supposed to be.

And one more thing.  Blair SO would not stab ANYONE with a table fork!  He's a PACIFIST.  Look it up in your dictionary.

BB.

ps: I don't know how you dared to try to pass this off as humour.  NONE of it was funny.

*******

"Daniel?  Could you come here for a second?" Jack sang out.  He smiled as Daniel emerged, looking a lot more relaxed in his jeans and endearingly damp around the edges.  He waited until Daniel was in reach, hooked him around the waist and drew him down into a long, dreamy kiss.  It felt like forever since he'd last kissed Daniel, so he made a production job of it, upping the suction until Daniel was gasping and clinging to him desperately.  Then he pulled Daniel all the way down onto his lap, carefully to avoid the wound, got a good strong grip on him, essential if he was going to KEEP Daniel on his lap, and dove in again.

Daniel's heart was thumping in his chest when Jack finally admitted defeat and slumped, panting.  He made a half-hearted attempt to escape, but subsided when Jack's arms tightened around him, settling for grumbling a protest, unconvincingly.

"Apparently I have no understanding of the dynamics of male/male relationships, the military psyche or gay sex," Jack announced pithily when he'd caught his breath from that spectacular ‘hi there and hello’ lip lock.  He indulged in a little nibbling of Daniel's jawline, grinning when Daniel lazily arched his neck to give him better access.  Either that, or he was craning to read the screen.

"The 'edu' address suggests a college student."  Daniel read the email again.  He shot Jack an evil smile.  "I guess your clueless hetero female alter ego has TOTALLY fooled the demographic.  And, to be fair, I wouldn’t say NONE of it was funny.  The title ALONE is…mmmph…mmm."  God, could Jack KISS.

"Prick," Jack murmured against Daniel's mouth, beginning those long lazy strokes of Daniel's spine they liked so much.  Then a irresistible thought occurred.  Could you feed back on the feedback?  He reached around Daniel and hit the reply button.

 *******   
Date:       Friday, 29 Sep 2000 23:13:13 (MDT)   
From:      flyboy_fanfic@yahoo.com   
Subject:   Primal Impulse   
To:          blairbabe@lake.ollusa.edu

Hello BB

Thanks so much for the flame, which regrettably failed to set my world alight for one very specific reason: I’ve been shot down in flames literally in RL.   LOL.  Not.  And honey, I gotta tell you, your assumption is SO not true.   I myself am a male Special Forces Officer in the Air Force, kicked ass all over the planet, highly decorated, met the President and all, and I roll over and stick my ass in the air every night of the week and twice on Sunday’s just because my boyfriend tells me to.  This is partially because he looks exactly like Jonathan, but mostly because even though he’s a genius with two doctorates and appalling fluency in twenty-three languages, he fucks like a freight train.

flyboy

ps: I hope you aren’t up this late on a school night.

*******

Jack beamed at Daniel, finger poised on the send key.  “I ASK you, is this worth a court-martial or is this worth a court-martial?”

“It’s worth a court-martial,” Daniel agreed.  He stared at Jack.  Jack stared at him.  “But I have to tell you, your flamer is likely to spontaneously combust long before she can give evidence against you.”

“Huh?”

“That crack about twice on Sundays?  INCREDIBLY tactless.  You do realise blairbabe is at Our Lady of the Lake University, don’t you?  The Sisters of the Congregation of Divine Providence would NOT be pleased one of their precious charges was a closet slashslut.”

“Sisters of the Congregation of…you’re joking, right?” Jack asked incredulously.

“Nope,” Daniel grinned.  Jack grinned back.

“It IS Divine Providence,” Jack gloated.  “Cool!  A Kamikaze flame war.”  He chuckled.  “I could cc the reply to the Sisters and Hammond, along with the story, take us both out in a blaze of glory.”

“Th-that’d d-do it,” Daniel gave up the unequal struggle and burst out laughing, “C-c-corrupting T-TEXAN n-nuns and t-t-teenagers!”

Jack pictured Hammond’s reaction to that scenario and cracked up.

“Ow, ow,” Daniel whimpered clutching his aching sides.  Laughing his ass off was in the top ten of things Janet said he shouldn’t do, no matter what, until his wound healed.

“Can I kiss it better?” Jack pounced, still chuckling.  He gently kissed the still-red, strangely sexy scar.  “Mmm.”

“Pervert,” Daniel grumbled, fending him off.  "May I?" he asked politely, reaching around him, finger poised on the trackball.

"Please," Jack graciously invited.

 *******   
Date:       Thursday, 28 Sep 2000 16:55:09 (MDT)   
From:       leather_boy@hotmail.com   
Subject:   Primal Impulse   
To:          flyboy_fanfic@yahoo.com

You Rool!  Chica, am I the guy you're looking for!  I got a hog myself, and anyone who loves their guns like you do?  WOO!  Mi casa, babe, mi casa.

Man, I'm WIRED.  We're made for each other.  You AIM?  My handle is the same as my email addy.  I don't get paroled for another coupla weeks but I get an hour on the net every day, rehab, y'know?  Wanna get together?  14:00 hours, EDT.

In case you're wondering, I didn't hurt nobody and people got insurance…

You're gonna call me right?  Call me!  Hey, I know what you're thinking.  That wasn't a threat.  LOL.

Slim

(I'm not, but I got personality)

ps: You mind if we make it su casa, if we get together in RL?    Temporarily embarrassed in the dwelling department and the parole board gets sticky if you don't have no forwarding address.

*******

"Stop laughing!" Jack snapped as Daniel's speechless incredulity dissolved into helpless laughter.

"Y-you've g-got y-y-yourself a live one, there," Daniel choked, scrolling down the list in search of more ammunition. He was attracted to one beguiling email address.

 *******   
Date:         Thursday, 28 Sep 2000 16:55:09 (MDT)   
From:         hypergrrl@archaeaology_roolz.net   
Subject:     Primal Impulse   
To:            flyboy_fanfic@yahoo.com

Dear Flyboy,

OMG "Primal Impulse" is like the best fanfic EVER!!!!!  You so totally rock.  The sex scenes were the best especially the last   
one with Blair doing Jim OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I get so tired of those stories with Blair always on the bottom you know what I mean?  I mean, you know, sometimes you gotta   
switch stuff around or it gets boring, y'know?  OMG!!!

Will you beta a story I'm working on?  My boyfriend and I tried all the positions out to see if they would work LOL! but my   
spelling and grammar kinda sux.  Wanna write one together?  OMG that would so totally rock!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anyway I think your story is the hottest thing I've ever read.  Whew!

Fanning self,   
Hypergrrl

*******

“You certainly know how to show the demographic a good time,” Daniel gushed.

"I can't read any more," Jack whined, burying his face in Daniel’s shoulder as Daniel dipped in and out of the emails lower down the list, skimming, laughing and shuddering theatrically.  He was SO not going to ask.

"Um…I think you need to read this one," Daniel tapped the screen.  "It's from Sam."

"WHAT?"

 *******   
Date:       Thursday, 28 Sep 2000 21:33:09 (MDT)   
From:       physicschick@slashsluts.net   
Subject:   Primal Impulse   
To:          flyboy_fanfic@yahoo.com

Sir,

I apologise sincerely for my strange behaviour in the lab this morning.  I'd only just read your story when you came in to see me.  I'm sorry for indulging in a personal pastime on SGC time, but Janet specifically wanted a second opinion.  Of course we both recognised Daniel from your lovingly detailed descriptions.  It was such a shock, and I'm afraid I may have been a little…giddy…when you came in to see me.  I know I…giggled...a little.  I hope you will be gracious enough to overlook my unprofessional manner in light of the unusual circumstances.

If you don't feel it would be overstepping our bounds, Janet and I would be delighted to give you feedback.   We LOVED the story.  And rest assured, Sir, the secret of flyboy's true identity remains with us.

Samantha Carter.

p.s: I can burn you the whole series on DVD if you're interested, to aid you in your future literary efforts?  And I could do you a little database of characters, places, villains, plots…searchable of course, with a nice user friendly front end.  And you’ll need the services of a webmaster.  You really need your own site.  With CGI, I can do you a nice Guestbook and an automated LOC.  I can ensure confidentiality and the security of the site, of course.  Just let me know!

p.p.s: Forgive the presumption, Sir, but I’ve AIMed the archivist and asked her to credit your beta reader as ‘C.C.A.’  Taken in conjunction with the lyrical descriptions of Daniel, Janet and I felt that ‘Chocolate Covered Archaeologist’ was evidence waiting to be used against you.

p.p.p.s: have you heard of the Guppies?  They have a category for best newcomer.  If your second story is as good as the first, you’ll be a shoo-in.  I’ll be happy to nominate and Janet is not averse to seconding.  I’ll rally the rest of the Sluts come voting time!

*******

"Oh My God!" Jack bleated.  "I thought she was…" he trailed off, words failing him.

"What?" Daniel asked, curious.  He was struggling not to laugh at the abject horror on Jack's face, and he was fascinated by the erupting blush, given Jack and shames were complete strangers.  "What 'was' Sam?" he prompted.

Jack scowled at him.

"What!" Daniel insisted.

"Flirting.  I thought she was…I mean…she was so GIRLIE," Jack explained sullenly.  “Giggly.”  He eyed Daniel speculatively.  “Jealous?” he asked hopefully.

“Of SAM?  No,” Daniel hooted, heartlessly.  “And look on the bright side, Jack.  You just got an email from Sam courtesy of slashsluts.net.  I doubt you have anything to worry about.”  Speaking of slashsluts.net…Daniel drew Jack’s attention to an email a little further up the list.

 *******   
Date:        Thursday, 28 Sep 2000 20:40:20 (MDT)   
From:        jim_junkie@slashsluts.net   
Subject:    Primal Impulse   
To:           flyboy_fanfic@yahoo.com

Sir,

With all due respect, I feel I must comment on your irresponsible attitude to the treatment and rehabilitation necessitated by post-traumatic shock and the kind of blunt-trauma injuries suffered by Jonathan, Blair and Jim.  I take issue with your assumption that any of these men would be inclined, let alone physically capable or emotionally stable enough to actively participate in the varied and vigorous aerobic ‘exercises’ you detailed, not after suffering an assortment of injuries ranging from contusions to concussions.  Jonathan alone would have required an Infirmary stay of several days.  Beer, takeout sushi and sex are simply not an appropriate substitute for bed rest and baseline obs.

I would be happy to offer my services as medical beta for future stories in order to assist you in avoiding glaring and laughable errors such as the position adopted by Mac and Jonathan in part 16, which would, I regret to say, result in a punctured lung courtesy of the ‘cracked’ – read fractured – rib you referenced in part 11.

Apart from the medical inaccuracies, I thoroughly enjoyed your story and would be happy to give you detailed feedback.

Best regards   
Janet Fraiser

ps: I’ve sent a private message to the Chocolate Covered Archaeologist.  Yahoo was the only email service that didn’t respond with a Mail Delivery failure, so please ask C.C.A. to read his message immediately.  And *privately*.

*******

“What happened to ‘don’t ask don’t tell’?” Jack asked feebly as Daniel clicked on ‘sign out’ and logged back in to Yahoo mail as chocolate_covered_archaeologist.

“You should take it as a compliment, Jack.  You have a lot of talent as a fan fic writer, and you have unique insights into the characters, despite what blairbabe alleges.  I enjoyed the story thoroughly, and so did Sam and Janet.  If they don’t have a problem with you writing then you shouldn’t let it be a problem,” Daniel muttered distractedly.  “Stop whining, take it like a man and let them help you.”

 *******   
Date:         Thursday, 28 Sep 2000 20:55:59 (MDT)   
From:         jim_junkie@slashsluts.net   
Subject:     Medical instructions   
To:            chocolate_covered_archaeologist@yahoo.com

Dear Daniel

In light of what I now know your relationship with flyboy to be, as your doctor I have to instruct you that on NO account are you to engage in sexual relations.  Your wound is NOT sufficiently healed.

I’ll advise you in person when you’re physically able to resume relations.

Yours,   
Janet Fraiser

ps: you must have nerves of steel to beta read FLYBOY! LOL!!!

*******

“No sex?” Jack groaned, clutching Daniel to him.

“Sweet,” Daniel snarled.

 

* * *

Jack dropped his keys next to the phone and stared thoughtfully at the open balcony door.  It had been an interminable week.  Carter and Fraiser were being…nice to him.  Circumspect.  Respectful.  Silence fell if he loomed up next to them in the Commissary.  It was unnerving, which he was pretty sure was exactly what they had in mind.  Sooner or later, he WAS going to have to cave and ask for that feedback they’d threatened him with.  And the database.  And the website.  Maybe it wouldn’t be all THAT bad.  He’d had some very positive feedback for his story, another request for a date from Slim, a marriage proposal and a lot of ‘constructive’ stuff he was still wading through and answering.  There was nothing Carter and Fraiser could say to him that he hadn’t heard already, slashluts or not.  He couldn’t  blame them for his current performance anxiety.  Could he?  Just because they were going out of their way to make him morbidly self-conscious in a thinly disguised attempt to force his hand and make him let them play too…He was only grateful neither his sexuality nor his relationship with Daniel seemed to be an issue with either of them.

All in all, he was having a bad week.  On day one, the de-briefing over the technobugs business had yielded unwelcome intelligence.  Major Davis had asked Daniel out on a date not ten minutes after the team dispersed and unfortunately, within earshot of Jack. Daniel’s polite, emphatic refusal had seemed far less important to Jack in the immediate aftermath than evolving various schemes to hunt Davis down and kill him.  Janet had refused to clear Daniel for ‘relations’ until she cleared him for active duty.  Given Daniel’s mood, this had not been an issue.  At least not for Daniel.

Daniel was cleared for active duty three days later, and had remained pointedly on base until the morning of the fourth day, when Jack had caved and turned up at work two hours early, after which, SG-1 had departed for, God help him, Euronda.  On the afternoon of the fourth day, Jack had apologised for his behaviour on Euronda.  Daniel had accepted his apology.  On the evening of the fourth day, Jack had apologised for his behaviour on Euronda again in private, and sworn six ways from Sunday his mood had nothing to do with any homicidal impulses directed towards Major Davis, no matter HOW bad it looked, what with the lousy timing and all.  Daniel had accepted THAT apology too, and taken him at his word.  Jack was freely and fully forgiven.

That had been three days ago, and unfortunately, Daniel’s physical fitness for relations still wasn’t an issue.  His palpable lack of enthusiasm for the prospect was.  The open balcony door here suggested a slight softening in mood.  It was raining.  A very specific kind of rain, soft and muffling the noise and bustle of the city.  Jack recalled every detail of Daniel’s fantasy vividly.  It was raining and Daniel was on the balcony, so it was time for Jack to slip stealthily into the bedroom to retrieve the lube and see if he couldn’t soften Daniel to the point his brains puddled out of his ears.  Jack shucked his jacket, boots, socks and shirt before padding silently out to the open balcony door wearing only his jeans.

Daniel was leaning against the brass railing, staring dreamily out at nothing.  His nape was most definitely ‘rain-dewed’, along with every other part of him, clearly outlined by the clinging sweats.  Jack felt his blood slam down so hard and fast he felt light-headed for a moment.  Then he eased forward and rested his hands on Daniel’s shoulders as he leaned in to kiss the nape of Daniel’s neck.  He felt Daniel shiver as he suckled on the raindrops.

“I love you,” Jack murmured hopefully into Daniel’s hair.

“I love you too,” Daniel sighed, leaning into a comforting embrace.  He was deeply touched Jack was willing to indulge even this part of his fantasy.  Maybe that was why the rain seemed such an integral part.  A public display of shared affection with no eyes to see them.

“Come inside,” Jack invited softly, reaching out to take Daniel’s hand and lead him back into the loft.  He remembered from the fantasy the door remained open throughout, so they could hear the sound of the rain along with the sounds of their lovemaking.  Daniel turned to face him, and he leaned in to take the offered kiss as Daniel cupped his face.  Jack slid his arms around Daniel’s waist and relaxed into a sweet, dizzying exploration of his mouth.  Daniel always kissed him as if he was this amazing creature, as if Daniel couldn’t believe his luck.  Every time Jack wondered just why it was Daniel was with him, he just had to remember the way Daniel kissed.  Everything Daniel felt for Jack, he expressed with his body, gave Jack pleasure so freely.  Jack admitted he wanted this, wanted it desperately.  He’d waited so long to lavish on Daniel some of the pleasure Daniel had given to him.  It all depended on what Daniel really wanted.  Jack would follow this fantasy through and see where Daniel was willing to let take it.

Jack exerted a little pressure with his tongue, eased Daniel back and slipped into Daniel’s mouth in turn.  He let his tongue glide slowly over Daniel’s, smiling when he felt the eager, answering pressure rasping against him, the urgent hands clutching hard at his shoulders now, the quick, panting breaths as Daniel rocked his hips compulsively against Jack’s.  It blew Jack away every single time he got Daniel excited, every time he felt that hardness straining into him, not just inviting, insisting.

Daniel slid his hands down Jack’s heaving sides as the kiss deepened, roughened, tongues thrusting passionately now, as he wrenched mindlessly at Jack’s buttons and zipper, gloating as his fingers stroked the length of Jack’s twitching erection.  God, he coveted this, the incredible heat and hardness of the man, the extremity of Jack’s desire for him.  Jack’s love for him.  Daniel shoved the jeans down, chuckling as he felt Jack’s hands shoving at his own sweats, then came identical groans of satisfaction into one another’s mouths as slippery, eager erections were finally freed and fondled.  Daniel supposed he should be anxious about this, his first time, but the pleasure Jack took in Daniel’s lovemaking was so intense, so fearless, all he was feeling was spine-melting excitement.  The familiar, rough, perfect caressing of Jack’s hand over his straining erection was driving him relentlessly towards orgasm, pleasure pulsing up from unbearably sensitised flesh, spiking clean through him.  “Jack,” he gasped in protest as his knees buckled, leaning heavily into Jack’s shoulder for support, for balance as white pleasure flashed behind his eyes.  Daniel moaned deeply, thrusting involuntarily into Jack’s waiting hand.

“Ssh,” Jack murmured into Daniel’s now sweat-dewed throat, “Trust me, Danny, let go.  The loving will be better if you let go, relax.  Trust me, okay?”

Daniel swallowed hard and murmured wordless agreement into Jack’s shoulder as he gave himself over to the pleasure Jack was building so expertly.  Jack knew how to touch Daniel, touched him as no other had before him.  Daniel rocked easily, rhythmically as Jack stroked him, his grip strong and certain, quickening almost imperceptibly as Daniel strained against him, moaning continually as his body was wracked with ecstasy…always the same; Jack always shattered him into a million pieces and built him up again.  Daniel reached up, dragged Jack into a searing kiss, driving his tongue deep into Jack’s mouth as he drove himself relentlessly into Jack’s pumping hand, feeling that familiar tightening, the clenching of muscles as his back arched and he came, sobbing with the shock of completion as he exploded and fell, for Jack.

Jack held onto Daniel as he strove to catch his breath and steady himself.  God, he loved this, loved the flushed face, streaked with sweat, rosy with satiation, the gentle mouth welcoming and soft against his questing one.  Loved the dazed pleasure he put into those wide eyes fixed earnestly on his.

“Make love to me, Jack, please,” Daniel asked softly.

Jack cupped his jaw, stared intently into his eyes.  “Are you sure, Danny?”  There was nothing shy about the answering look.  Daniel was sure.  They each undressed the other, shoving and tugging at recalcitrant pants until they were naked.  Jack kissed Daniel, kept right on kissing him as he backed him towards the desk and the open books heaped all over its surface.  Daniel wanted to smell the written word, that’s what he’d confided.  He wanted to smell books, hear the rain, and feel and know only Jack, loving him.

Jack released Daniel’s mouth only long enough to ease Daniel around to face his desk, settle himself over it as Jack moved behind him and reached for the lube.  Daniel was as relaxed as he could be physically, as eager for this intimacy as Jack had dared to let himself fantasise.  He crooned reassurance into Daniel’s nape as he stroked one lubed finger between the cheeks of Daniel’s butt, not the first time he’d touched Daniel this way, of course, but they’d never gone further than some gentle stroking inside.  Daniel was amazingly responsive, uninhibited when he was touched inside, once Jack had coaxed him past that initial resistance, but Jack had never pushed for more than Daniel had wanted to give.  He was assured from Daniel’s eagerness that Daniel wouldn’t tense when he slipped a careful finger inside, and as for the rest, he’d see if Daniel stopped him as he always had before.  No was always an option, for both of them.  Jack understood Daniel’s reticence, though he had charged in where angels feared to tread.  This act alone was more intimate than kissing, this surrendering up of your body to another man.  Jack knew of no other man than Daniel he trusted enough to do that, and his trust had not been misplaced.  Daniel was incredibly unselfish as a lover, losing himself in giving far more pleasure than he seemed willing to take.  Now, he was ready to redress the balance in a first for both of them.

Daniel relaxed and pushed down as Jack’s probing finger centred itself and eased slowly, gently inside him.  He sighed and consciously allowed himself to slump bonelessly over his desk, waiting for that tender, hypnotically sensuous brush deep inside him, the one that made him whimper helplessly as sensations sheeted through his body, more of a slam than a wave of pleasure.  It left him gasping and quivering over his desk as tremors of pleasure ghosted through his abdomen.

“Is it…this…for you?” he asked weakly.

“Oh, Lord, yes,” Jack gloated, pressing a quick kiss into his hair.

Daniel leaned into the cradling arm around his waist as a second finger joined the first and Jack drove him with infinite care over the edge again.  A third finger almost drove him out of his mind as Jack thrust slowly in and out, brushing over that sweet, sullen spot deep inside over and over again.  Daniel was shaking, iron hard again, close to screaming before Jack heeded his pleas and took pity.

Jack nudged Daniel’s thighs just a little further apart, and guided his straining shaft into position.  From his own experience, he knew the key to this was breaching Daniel gently, making tiny thrusts forward until the head was inside.  Once he was in, he’d be able to slide all the way in painlessly.  He murmured an endless litany of wordless reassurance as he nudged his way with infinite care and caution into Daniel’s body.  Jack emptied his mind of everything but this, pumping his hips smoothly and slowly, easing in, not relaxing one iota until Daniel’s harsh panting segued into a long-drawn out ‘o-oh’ of surprise and appreciation.

“Love you,” Jack whispered as he tilted Daniel’s dazed face towards his and kissed him deeply, slowly, as he thrust deeper into this stunning heat and tightness.  He could feel Daniel’s muscles trembling as they stretched to accommodate him, groaned helplessly as Daniel consciously relaxed and unclenched, seeming to recognise this was something Jack did for him when they’d loved, and clenched again.  “Jesus,” Jack moaned, “I’ll come on the spot if you do that again.” He mouthed Daniel’s nape, nuzzling into his hair.  “Okay?” he asked softly.

Daniel weighed his answer carefully.  It hurt like hell when Jack breached him, the pain of it pounding through his clenching gut.  He’d held on, ridden out that searing onslaught until Jack was rocking sweetly home, deep inside.  He quivered with every twitch of Jack’s straining shaft, shook as sensation jabbed through his body and the stinging subsided to bearable proportions.  Jack felt pleasure, so Daniel was convinced it was only a matter of when, not if, he felt it too.  His body was trusting, he was trusting.  He was gifting himself to Jack and that alone made this more than okay.  He nodded tightly.

“Ready?”  Jack waited for a murmur of agreement and thrust tenderly.  His muscles were taut with the effort of controlling his movements, to love Daniel long, deep and slow.  Daniel was braced against the desk, still white knuckled as Jack rested his hands over Daniel’s.  Each gentle rock of his hips rocked Daniel into the edge of the desk, so Daniel cautiously braced himself against Jack at Jack’s urging.  Christ, but it felt good.  Penetration was primal, and Jack struggled against savage satisfaction at finally having what he’d coveted for so long, at taking what no other man had ever or would ever know.  He wanted only sharing of pleasure in this act of love, but part of him insisted it was also a claim.  Maybe it was just that he was coming full circle, finally sharing and understanding the almost painful intensity of the pleasure Daniel felt when he loved Jack like this.

Daniel relaxed into the slow, steady thrusts, feeling himself rocked back and forth, carried away literally by Jack’s passion.  His fingers were clasped in Jack’s, and then Jack was reaching their arms across Daniel’s chest, hugging him in tight against Jack’s chest in turn as Jack’s lips sought his for another passionate kiss.  Daniel lost himself in pure sensation as Jack loved him, the iron hard heat moving deep and slow inside him, filling him in a way he’d never imagined.  It was immensely satisfying to give of himself of this way, and slowly he became aware of a need for more.  He was painfully hard, but didn’t want to break the embrace, didn’t want Jack to unwrap himself to attend to it.  He wanted the slide of Jack’s abdomen and chest against his back, the slickness of sweat making the flexing muscles slippery as their skin slid over and over.  He wanted the powerful thighs braced and working between his, Jack’s hips rocking gently, then thrusting, then rocking again, each tiny movement shooting different sensations through him.

“Oh, God, oh, Danny, Jesus,” Jack whimpered.  His breath was labouring in his chest as he strained to hold himself to this smooth steady pace, a pace Daniel was just relaxing into, tentatively beginning to push back against Jack, soft, surprised moans of satisfaction sighing out as gentle as the murmuring of the rain through the open balcony door.  Jack exerted every scrap of self-control not to drive into Daniel, not to take the pleasure Daniel was slowly yielding to him.  He wanted only to share, so he held onto himself and let Daniel set the pace.  He quickened his thrusting with heartfelt relief when Daniel began to rock easily against him, moaning almost continuously.  He dared to angle his hips, lifting Daniel with him, gloated over a sob of ecstasy from Daniel as he massaged Daniel’s prostate.  He wanted to make this so-o good, make it worth the trust, the giving.

Daniel was pushing into Jack with almost hysterical eagerness now, desperate for more of that fierce, glad sensation sheeting through his body, making every nerve ending sing as he strove and strained for completion, determined to drive Jack over the edge.  “More, he grated, “Please, Jack, MORE.”

He heard Jack grunting with effort as those deep powerful glides shortened and quickened into jabs that drove into his sweet spot, the ecstasy boiled up and he hung poised at the brink of coming, sobs crowding his throat.

Jack couldn’t take any more, Daniel was writhing wantonly against him, grinding his ass into every thrust, as desperate for completion as Jack, then he clenched his muscles hard around Jack and Jack came hard against Daniel’s sweet spot, driving Daniel exploding over the edge.  The powerful contractions milked Jack almost beyond bearing, his knees buckling as they sprawled bonelessly against the desk, both of them hoarse with triumph and fighting for every harsh breath.

When he was sure of himself, he eased free of Daniel, who turned at once to hug him.  They clung together, shaking, soothing one another until the worst of the tremors passed.  Daniel seemed to have lost the ability to speak English, insistently murmuring a variety of tumbled, disjointed phrases into Jack’s shoulder.

“Hey, it's okay,” Jack murmured gently, tightening his grip on Daniel.  “I know.  I do.  In fact, if I’d known how good it was, I’d have tried it sooner.”

Daniel blinked, trying and failing to process what Jack had just told him.  Jack was experienced.  He’d told Daniel so.  Insisted on it, in fact.  “What?” he asked incredulously.

“What?” Jack asked blankly.

“What!”

“What ‘what’?” Jack cautiously sought clarification.

“Stop trying to avoid the question!” Daniel snapped.  “You know what!”

Jack was just about to vigorously deny knowing ‘what’ when he realised abruptly he knew EXACTLY what.  “Fuck,” he said weakly.

“That’s what!” Daniel said triumphantly.  He beamed at Jack.  Jack glowered back.  “So-o?” he prompted.

“So-o ‘what’?” Jack snapped.

“Was it good?” Daniel asked, flushing a little.

“Was it good for you?” Jack riposted.

“Do you have to answer a question with a question?”

“Do you?”

“Do you have to have the last word?”

“Do you?”

“It was…good,” Daniel said innocently, knowing perfectly well the lightning change of subject wouldn't stop Jack from trying to outdo him.

“It was great.”  Jack’s ears engaged a beat behind his mouth, apparently without any involvement from his brain.  He glared at Daniel.  “GOOD.  I mean good,” he snapped.  It sounded lame even tohim.

“Really?” Daniel asked shyly, making with the melting eyes.

“Ye-ah.”  Jack admitted reluctantly, scuffing his foot over the carpet.  “You?”

“Really,” Daniel admitted.

“Cool!” Jack exulted.  “I mean…”

“’Okay’?” Daniel suggested.  "You're not just saying…?"

"Er….no." Jack eyed Daniel covertly.  "You?" he asked casually.

"No."  Daniel found his feet of great interest.  "So, it was…okay."

"Okay," Jack agreed.  "Yeah.”

"Kind of…nice…to know," Daniel admitted softly.

"Yeah.  And…er…ditto."  Jack was relieved Daniel was letting him get away with it, and the nuzzling suggested maybe he was going to let Jack get away with a little more.   The night was young.  “I couldn’t be without you, y’know, not now,” he admitted gruffly to the Pre-Colombian death mask.

“Take it with you,” Daniel offered generously.  “It’ll look pretty good against all those Earth tones in the bathroom.”  He dissolved into laughter as Jack’s head snapped up.  “Marshmallow,” he accused, not bothering to hide his tenderness from Jack’s scorching scowl.  “I know.  I hate you too,” he whispered sweetly against Jack’s sullen mouth.

“Is this a good time to mention my next fic will be a cross-over?  The Sentinel and Star Trek.   My synopsis is going to be ‘It’s slash, Jim, but not as we know it’,” Jack announced coldly.  “And I’m writing YOU in as Uhura.”

FINIS


End file.
